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The Aztec God 



AND 



OTHER DRAMAS 



BY 



GEORGE LANSING RAYMOND 



THIRD EDITION, ABRIDGED, WITH OMITTED PASSAGES 
PRINTED IN FOOTNOTES 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 

Gibe •Rnicftecbocl^ec ipresa 

1908 



LiBRArTYotCONGKESS 
1 wo Cooies HeceiYsU 

JUN 24 1908 

i! 0O9^ B. ' 



1^ 6 ^ 



COPYRIGHT BY 

GEORGE LANSING RAYMOND 

igoo 

REVISED EDITION, COPYRIGHT BY 

GEORGE LANSING RAYMOND 
1908 



Ube iknCcbecbocIter iptees* l^ew H^ock 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

The Aztec God i 

Columbus 129 

Cecil the Seer . 296 



THE AZTEC GOD. 



INTRODUCTION : PLACE AND TIME. 

The scene of this drama is laid in Mexico near the opening 
of the Fifteenth Century, just when the Aztecs were begin- 
ning to overrun the country, and when, therefore, the peculiar 
forms of their religion may reasonably be supposed to have 
been comparatively unknown to the Tezcucans who, as will 
be shown presently, adhered, in the main, to the more mild 
religious observances of the ancient Toltecs. 

The facts with reference to the Aztec human sacrifices, the 
selection for these of a captive without blemish, the allot- 
ment to him of certain maidens as wives, and the general 
luxury and adoration with which he was surrounded up to 
the time when, surrendering the flowers that crowned his 
head and the l3n'e that he carried, he ascended the pyramid 
to have his heart torn out of him while still alive, — all these 
facts are sufficiently well known to substantiate the delinea- 
tions of the drama. 

The exact religious conception which underlay these Aztec 
rites is not known. In the circumstances, it has been 
thought justifiable to surround them with a certain atmos- 
phere of spiritual truth — though only in twilight — similar to 
that which is known to have formed the setting of the pagan 
worship of ancient Egypt and Greece. It has been recognized 
that doing this might not only enhance the poetic effective- 
ness of the presentation, but might also aid in imparting to it 
that contemporary import and application which, in every 
work of art, the intelligent reader ought to feel, even though 



2 THE AZTEC GOD. 

he may not be able, in any wholly satisfactory way, to analyze 
or interpret. 

A few historical quotations may be needed to explain the 
disposition which Haijo and the King are represented as pro- 
posing to make of Waloon. In a note referring to the in- 
mates of the Aztec religious houses, in Prescott's " Conquest 
of Mexico," vol. I., p. 69, we read that " Tales of scandal 
. . . have been told of the Aztec virgins," etc., and in 
vol. I., pp. 110-112, of the same author's "Conquest of 
Peru," a country in which there prevailed a worship of the 
heavenly bodies very similar to that of the Aztecs, we are 
informed, with reference to the " Virgins of the Sun," as 
they were termed, that *' they were young maidens, dedicated 
to the service of the deity, who . . . were taken from 
their homes and introduced into convents. . . . From the 
moment they entered the establishment, they were cut of! 
from all connection with the world, even with their own 
family and friends. Yet . , . though Virgins of the Sun, they, 
were brides of the Inca (or king), and, at a marriageable age, 
the most beautiful among them were selected for the honors 
... of the royal seraglio . . . The full complement of this 
amounted in time not only to hundreds but to thousands, who 
found accommodations in his different palaces." An estab- 
lished custom like this among the Peruvians certainly seems 
sufficient to justify an illustration of the spirit underlying it 
among a people so much like them in other respects as were 
the Aztecs. 

A few words may be needed too with reference to the 
range of thought and feeling attributed in the drama to 
Monaska and Kootha. Some may suppose the healthfully 
romantic chastity of the one and the philosophic cynicism of 
the other to be idealizations beyond the possibilities of the 
period. 

With reference to the first of these suppositions it is only 
necessary to say that a very slight investigation of facts 



PLACE AND TIME. 3 

would enable the reader to recognize that Monaska repre- 
sents a type of character by no means uncommon among the 
Indians of our own country to-day, or among other semi- 
civilized people. The elaborated systems of ethicsj to which 
the enlightened nations are apt to attribute their virtue, are 
themselves merely developments of natural and normal in- 
stincts of which men, especially young men, are everywhere 
conscious, and by which they are often controlled. If this 
were not so, the ethics of civilized life would be a result with- 
out a cause. 

With reference to the philosophic and religious attitudes of 
mind of Kootha, and of Monaska, too, so far as he is represent- 
ed as indulging in these, something more, perhaps, should be 
said. And first of all, let the reader be reminded that, had this 
drama been written by one who had lived among the Aztecs, 
it would have been impossible for him, however desirous of 
being faithful to facts, looking backward, as he would be 
obliged to do, through the vista of time, not to have his 
whole representation tinged with the results of his experi- 
ences in life, thought and expression through the four hundred 
years intervening. But, besides this, were he a poet, it would 
be impossible for him not to have them tinged specifically with 
the results of his own imagination, inasmuch as the value of 
the contribution of poetry, m all cases, is exactly proportioned 
to the light with which it illumines facts in connection with the 
process of transferring them to the region of fancy. It is 
admitted, therefore, that the characters of this drama are 
presented as they appear through an intervening space of 
four hundred years ; and that, as a consequence, the expres- 
sions used, and in some cases the substance of what is ex- 
pressed, are more or less modern. But just as a magnifying 
glass modifies all the points of interest in an object to which it 
is applied, so it seems permissible at times for imaginative art 
to do — in case, like the glass, it does not change the relative 
proportions of the parts to one another and to the whole. A 



4 THE AZTEC GOD. 

poet, like a painter, has a right to increase the interest and 
beauty of the life that furnishes his model by means of the 
medium — the modern medium too — through which he is sup- 
posed to contemplate it. Otherwise, the subject with which 
he deals could not be treated from a present and poetic 
view-point, and his works would not be worth the ink ex- 
pended on them. All the consideration for truth which it 
seems reasonable to expect of the historic dramatist is 
that, in a medium, the component parts of which are neces- 
sarily made up of the language and methods of thought 
natural to his own time, he should represent, in their relative 
proportions, the particular motives and feelings as well as the 
general atmosphere of thought natural to the conditions ex- 
isting at the time of the events forming the basis of his plot. 

There still remains another supposition to be met. It has 
apparently been granted, thus far, that the range of thought 
and feeling attributed to Monaska and Kootha may be beyond 
the possibilities of the period. But barring the modem 
associations and suggestions, to which reference has already 
been made, it is by no means certain that this need be con- 
ceded. The fathers of the Spanish church, at the time when 
America was discovered, seeing in the distribution of bread 
and wine, confession, penance, monasticism and sacrificial 
ceremonies, as practiced by its aborigines, a resemblance to 
their own religious observances, could attribute this to nothing 
S)ut contrivances of the devil to counterfeit the rites of Chris- 
tianity. But we all know now, or ought to know, that the 
real explanation for resemblances of this kind is to be found 
in the fact that humanity, wherever it exists, is the same ; and 
that a similar stage of its development alv/ays tends to forms 
of life, religious as well as civil, of the same general nature. 
This fact, indeed, is the chief warrant for supposing that this 
drama of the Aztecs can have any present interest, or suggest, 
by analogy, any present lesson. But this thought aside, the 
fact being as stated, all that is needed to justify the character- 



PLACE AND TIME, 5 

istics and sentiments of Monaska and Kootha is to show that 
the civilization of the Tezcucans at this period was sufficiently 
highly developed to produce them. To do this is not diffi- 
cult. Of one of the kings of Tezcuco, Nezahualcoyotl, 
who died about 1470 A. D., the same author already quoted 
says in the " Conquest of Mexico," vol. I., pp. 192-196, that 
" He built a temple in the usual pyramidal form, and on the 
summit a tower nine stories high, to represent the nine 
heavens ; a tenth was surmounted by a roof painted black 
and profusely gilded with stars on the outside and incrusted 
with metals and precious stones within. He dedicated this to 
the unknown God, the Cause of causes. . . . No image was 
allowed in the edifice, as unsuited to the invisible God ; and 
the people were expressly prohibited from profaning the altars 
with blood, or any other sacrifices than that of the perfume of 
flowers and sweet-scented gums." He is also represented to 
have said : " Idols of wood and gold can neither see, hear nor 
feel ; much less could they make the heavens and the earth 
and man the lord of it. These must be the work of the all- 
powerful, unknown God, Creator of the universe, on whom 
alone I must rely for consolation and support ; " and in one 
of his poems — for many nobles and princes of this people 
were poets — he says : " The great, the wise, the valiant, the 
beautiful — alas ! where are they now.? They are all mingled 
with the clod ; and that which has befallen them shall happen 
to us, and to those that come after us. Yet let us take cour- 
age, illustrious nobles and chieftains, true friends and loyal 
subjects, — let us aspire to that heaven where all is eternal, and 
corruption cannot come. The horrors of the tomb are but 
the cradle of the sun, and the dark shadows of death are 
cast by light from the stars." Men educated where opinions 
like these prevailed and were expressed, could certainly be 
capable of sentiments of the kind attributed in this drama to 
Monaska and Kootha. 



Each time you try to mold a spirifs life 
With fingers grappling from the fist offorce. 
You clutch but at the air, at what is far 
Too fine for force to handle » 

The Aztec God, IV, /. 

Oh something surely must be wrong. 
When that which rules without rules not within. 

Idem, 



CHARACTERS. 



MONASKA. 



KOOTHA. 



Haijo. 
Wapella. 

The King. 
Waloon. 



First 

Second 

Third 



A young Mexican or Acolhuan warrior of 
noble blood, captured by the Aztecs from the 
Tezcucans, a people who, before succumbing 
to the Aztec invasion, were distinguished by 
their comparatively mild religion and man- 
ners. 

A cynical Tezcucan of high rank and education, 
captured by the Aztecs years before the time 
when the drama is supposed to open, and 
now a slave of the priest, Haijo, and an at- 
tendant at the temple. 

A chief priest of the Aztecs. 

A Tezcucan warrior, captured by the Aztecs 
at the same time as Monaska. 

Sovereign of the Aztecs. 

A Tezcucan maiden of high rank, niece of 
Kootha, captured, when very young, by the 
Aztecs and adopted by Haijo the priest. 

Admirers of Monaska, and assigned 

Maidens. { to him as wives, according to 
the customs of the Aztecs. 



Women, Maidens, Officers, Soldiers, Priests, Priest- 
esses, Pages, Attendants, etc. 



PROPERTIES. 



MoNASKA. In Act First, Bow, Arrows, and Club. In Act 
Second, Club. In Acts Third and Fourth, 
Flower-wreathed Head-dress and Lyre. 

KooTHA. In Acts First and Fifth, a Spear. 

Haijo. In Act First, a Spear. 

Wapella. In Acts First and Fifth, Bow, Arrows, and 
Club. In Act Second, a Club. 

Ki NG. In all the Acts, Belt and Hand Weapons appro- 

priate for a king. In Acts Second and 
Fourth, some sort of a Crown. 

Waloon. In Act First, a Spear. In Act Second, a 
Wreath of Flowers. 

Maidens. In Second Act, Wreaths of Flowers about 
their heads, shoulders, etc., and also carried 
in their hands. 
Soldiers with Bows, Arrows, Spears, etc., and 
all on the stage in the costumes of the place 
and period. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 



ACT FIRST. 

Scene : — A forest. Backings a tree with a moss- 
covered ekvatiofi or seat at the Right of it. Many 
Entrances at Right and Left through the trees. 
The darkness of a storm by day, with occasional 
thunder and lightning. Contending bands of war- 
riors inflight and pursuit cross stage from Left to 
Right. 

Enter — Left Second — Kootha.^ 

Enter — Right Second — Officer, 
Officer. What, Kootha, you here? 



^ KooTHA {to himself). 

Oh, what a whirlwind's wave-lashed sea is war ! 
Then hate breaks loose to over-flood the world, 
Hurling all love-built order upside down 
Till weal is drowned in darkness of the deep, 
And wreckage rides the crest.— They might have 

known 
They would be tricked. War's tactics all are acts 



lO THE AZTEC GOD. 

KOOTHA. Ay. 

Officer. What for? 

KooTHA. To see 

The tragedy. 
Officer. Is over now. 

KooTHA. The fight?— 

I mean not that; but you have captives. 
Officer. Crowds. 

KooTHA. And them I came to see. 
Officer. Yes, you are he 

That waits on them till sacrificed. 
KooTHA. I do. 

Officer. And you take pleasure in it? 
KooTHA. So they say. — 

Why? — You would not? 
Officer. In part of it I might. — 

For you, too, like an angel, bring to each 

The maiden he is free to love and wed. 
KooTHA. And I, too, ride the nightmare, sped 
him when 



Of treachery — the one sole sphere where he 
Who does the worst thing does the best, here faith 
Falls crushed beneath the trampling foot of force ; 
And fair means trip, trailed mire ward after foul. 

^ Officer. Ugh ! — I wou4d rather be a soldier, 
KooTHA. What?— 

And miss a spectacle so rare ? — that play 



THE AZTEC GOD, II 

His love o'erflows in dreams of Paradise. 
I come to tell him just the way to reach it, 
Describe the scene awaiting on the morrow — 
His own stripped, cringing form — and, over there, 
Each man, maid, child in town agog to see him; 
Then how the priests will throttle, throw him 

down. 
And, while yet living, writhing, yelling, sane. 
Gouge their blunt knives between his reeking ribs. 
And, by the roots, tear out his dripping heart.^ 

Officer {pointing toward Left Third Entrance). 
See there — the maids are coming now. 

KooTHA. Of course. 

To snare the captive that your spears have 

spared. 
They know the first with whom they fall in love, 
Will be the first one whom the priest will call 
The chosen of the gods, and send to — heaven. 
What cares a maid, be he her victim too? 

Officer. You mean her lover. 



Of fright and agony, in white and shade 
Breaking in contrast o'er your victim's brow? 
Why, what were life without variety? 

Officer. You see too much of it. 

KooTHA. Oh no !— no more 

Than all men do — perhaps concentered more 
Than hell vouchsafes to others ! That is all. 



12 THE AZTEC GOD. 

KooTHA. Victim too.' 

Officer. Well, I 

Am not their victim yet, and so I leave. 
Exit — Right Third Entrance — Officer. 
KooTHA {looking at him as he leaves). 

No, not their victim ; but your captives are ; 
And they are my own kin, whom I, forsooth. 
Must fool and lure to slaughter. How I longed 
For their success ! Yet why ? — Am well off 

here ; 
And they might not have deem'd me of their 

tribe, — 
So young I was when captured, now so like 



2 Officer. I see: 

A soldier's life seems lovelier, then? 

KoOTHA. Why not? — 

A man-foe is a brute, a shark that whacks 
The spirit's prow and whirls it from its course. 
A maid may be a devil seizing on 
The spirit's helm to turn it where she will. 
Her victim though — he thinks her will is his. 
You never knew a man to dodge the touch 
Of love-like fingers feeling for his heart. 
That heart held once within a grip so gained, 
Will take each wrench that wrings its life-blood out 
To be its own pulsation. 

Officer. I, at least, 

Am not, etc. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 1 3 

A native. Yet could I but save Waloon, — 
My brother's child, king's daughter too ! but here 
This Haijo, he who maimed me — made me slave, 
Haijo, he trains her like a flowering weed 
To clip and fling up to the royal couch, 
When comes the time her beauty blooms in full. 
Poor duped Waloon ! — Oh, I can bear my fate. 
But you — how like what Haijo wills you grow! 
Deem nothing true or right in earth or air 
Except as he enjoins! — ^are so much his 
That even I, who ought, I do not dare 
To let you know the foe we just have fought 
Are our own kinsmen.^ 



* What can curse one worse 
Than force that jails expression, whether walled 
In masonry or flesh ! — Though it may be 
Fit training for a life whose brightest end 
Is death. If all men die alone, may be 
They ought to learn, ere death, to live alone. 
Enter — Left Third Entrance — several WOMEN. 
First Woman. Aha, you think so, do you, Kootha? 
KOOTHA. You 

Have come to make a lonely lot seem bliss? 
What business brings you here? 

{Gesturing to make them retire.") 
Second Woman {advancing in a supplicating way). 

We came to pray 

Kootha. Oh, yes, I know, you always come to 
prey. 



14 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Enter — Left Third Entrance — several Women. 

^An arrow, coming from the right, falls upon the stage. 

KooTHA picks it up and shows it to women.) 

They are fighting still. 
You may get more of these through your own 

hearts 
Than even you could dream to send through 
others*. 
Women. Oh ! oh ! 

Exetmt — at the Left Entrances — //^^ Women in fright, 
KooTHA {looking after them, and toward the right). 
The fight and flight not over ! Humph ! 
Exit — Left — KooTHA. 



So do the buzzards, but we drive them back. 

Second Woman. We seek 

KoOTHA. Why say not lose? — You hope to lose 

Your hearts in this place. 
First Woman {sarcastically). 

Not in this place, Kootha. 
It must be further on. 

{She tries to pass him.) 
Kootha {preventing her). 

No, no, stay back. 
First Woman. Stay back? — Stay back yourself . Are 
you the one 
Commanding here — a slave of priests like you ? 
What use have priests upon a battle-field ? 
Kootha. To save souls from perdition — are bet- 
ween 



THE AZTEC GOD. 1 5 

{After a little, amid thunder and lightning), 
Enter — Right Upper Entrance — Wapella. 
Enter — Right Second Entrance — Monaska. 
Wapella. That you, Monaska ? 
Monaska. Yes, and you ? 

Wapella. Wapella. 

Monaska. What man can fight both earth and 

heaven ? 
Wapella. Some fiend 

Is raining down these fiery storm-bolts. 
Monaska. Yes, 

We meet the foe, and in their track, as if 
Out-cowarding the just-caught cuttle-fish, 



The men and you. 
First Woman. The fight is over. 

KooTHA. Then 

Do let the warriors have a little rest. 

Why break their peace, before you get them home? 
First Woman. No fear for your peace ! You may stay 
alone ! 

There are those, though, who want us. 
Kootha. There are men 

Who lose their senses. I have heard of those 

With ears too dull to hear a bat when squealing, 

And flesh too tough to feed a flea when stinging. 
Second Woman [to First Woman). 

Why stand and talk? We have a right to see 

The captives. Kootha knows it too. 

( To Kootha). Stand back ! 



l6 THE AZTEC GOU. 

This gloom exudes upon the flooding light. 
Wapella. We might have scaled their hill, but not 

these heavens. 
MoNASKA. We just had drawn our bows, each arrow 

aimed 
To wedge eternal stillness in between 
Unhinging joints of some affrighted heart, 
When down upon us burst that thunder-flash. 
The shock, so sudden, glanced the arrows up 
As if to shoot them in the face of gods 
Asail the clouds in yon black gulf. It gave 
Their men their chance. With one wild yell and 

bound 
They closed like smoke about the lightning's 

fire; 
And, all with darts whirled on like sparks before 
A flame that followed, they came roaring on 
To fill the gaps their shots had made/ 
Wapella {leading Monaska toward the moss-covered 

{To First Woman). 
Go forward ! 
KoOTHA. Nay, leave forwardness to men. 

Have backwardness. It best becomes a woman. 

^ Oh, hell ! 
Not one of us but saw, mount fiercely up 
The dying body of some fallen friend, 
What seemed wild fiends. 
Wapella. How know you but they were?— 

Grim phantom-spirits of the earth and air — 



THE AZTEC GOD, I7 

seat or elevation at the Right of the tree). 
We here 
Are hid as could be hoped for. 
MoNASKA. I hope not 

For anything. Sweet hope is a bird of light, 
The pulsing touch of whose aspiring wing 
Thrills to new life the very air one breathes. 
In gloom like ours the trembling heart but leaps 
To dodge the whir of some blind bat of fear. 
Wapella {looking toward the Left) . 

Hark ! There seems human rhythm in this hell. 
What hot pursuit is it comes burning through 
These crackling branches ? 

( Vivid Lightning. ) 
Monaska {pointing toward the Left). 

Did you see it? 
Wapella. No. 

But when I do 

{Drawing his bow.) 

The same that now pursue us? — and from them 

You fled ? 
Monaska. Fled? — Never! No, with them I fought, 

Till all I fought for but myself were not. 
Wapella. Hush ! They will find us. 
Monaska. Ay, they will — too soon. 

Each fearful time this lid of heaven is lifted. 

The rays pour in and focus here on us. 

They axle here the foes' near wheeling lines, 

Ay, draw them like a whirlpool to its vortex. 



1 8 THE AZTEC GOD, 

MoNASKA {^placing his hand on the bow). 

Hold! — Could one ever see 
An angel, hers would be a form like that. 
Wapella. An angel ? — fiend! 
MoNASKA. Right! Only fools have faith 

In forms they have not wit to find unfrocked. 
Not sages even see the spirit through them. 
We flee. 
Wapella {^placing his hand on his hip^ and sinking 
down). 

I cannot. 
MoNASKA. What? — Are wounded? 

Wapella. Yes. 

MoNASKA {sitti^ig on the moss-covered seat beside him). 

Then I stay too. 
Wapella. Nay, go. 

M ON ASK A {lying down on the moss-covered elevation^. 

Not I. — No man 
Can wish us ill, the while our bodies bow 
To do his wishes. Let us yield our wills 
To save our lives, and feign that we are dead. 

Enter — Third Left Entrance — W a loon. 

Wapella. Sh— sh: 

Wapella. This tree will shield us. 

MONASKA. There is not a tree 

Or leaf, or trunk, but what, to point us out, 
These fiery fingers of the storm would dash 
Aside to ashes — fume — thin air. 



THE AZTEC GOD. IQ 

Waloon {^soliloquizing). 

The foe are fled. Our homes are safe; 
{Lightning. She sees Monaska and Wapella). 
Why, who are they? — How beautiful! What 

flowers 
To bloom amid the desert of the storm! 
What glow of vigor in their fair, round limbs, 
Ay, how their colors warm this cold-hued air! — 
Can they be wounded? — dead? — Oh, cruel man. 
When spirits of the sunlight guise in flesh 
And fringe the halo of the sunshine round them, 
Have we so much to cheer us on the earth, 
We can afford destruction to the frames 
That form fit settings of a light so dear? — 

Nay, I 

{She approaches^ bends ^ and studies them.) 

They both are breathing still! — But look 

{Lightning.) 
This garb? — Why, they will kill me yet unless 



{Lifts a spear that she holds in her hand, then 
drops it.^ They start up. She draws back, 
lifting her spear.) 
Wait, wait? — A maid like me would do no harm. — 



^ Who made me heaven's avenging messenger? 
Or bade me cull for those high gardeners there 
What grow in nights of earth to greet their dawn? 
I should not know them foes but for their guise. 
And what is all their alien flesh but guise 



20 THE AZTEC GOD. 

{As they sit still and look at her.) 
You — you are wounded ? 
MoNASKA. Not to death. — And you ? — 

Why do you stand there, and not hurl the dart ? 
It would be sweet, if when one came to die. 
His last sigh could breathe forth toward one 
like you. 
Waloon. I kill you? — What? 
MoNASKA. And why, pray, should you not? 

Waloon. I am a woman! 
( The storm ceases j and from this time on the stage 

grows gradually brighter?) 
MoNASKA. And a woman's aim 

Knows how to reach the heart. We should 

escape 
The bungling work of men. 

{Opening his breast?) 

My heart — take aim — 
Is open to you. Oh, how it will thrill 
To feel it gets what you would give ! 
Waloon. No, no; 

You seem too strong and fair for earth to lose. 
Some one, with you, would find it full of light. 



A little nearer to their souls? It gone, 
What would they be but spirits, freed from 

space, — 
From all the need of trampling others down 



THE AZTEC GOD. 21 

MoNASKA. But we are foes. 

Waloon. To me you seem like friends. 

MoNASKA. But to your brothers? 
Waloon. There are those they spare. 

MoNASKA. At your wish? 
Waloon. I can plead. 

MoNASKA. From such lips pleas, 

Like fragrance from the flowers upon a shrine, 
Might bring an answer. I will trust in you. 
(MoNASKA and Wapella begin to rise.) 
Enter — Left Second Entrance — Haijo and Kootha. 
Waloon. Nay, nay, lie still. Wait, till I speak 

to them. 
{^Pointing to Haijo ^;^^ Kootha, and moving toward 
the7n and addressing the7?i.) 
There lie some wounded warriors. 
Kootha. Foes? 

Waloon. They are. 

Kootha. I hope then you have cured them of 

their wounds ! 
Waloon. How so? 
Kootha {lifting his spear). 

How so? — There is but one sure cure. — 



To find a place to stand in for them- 
selves ? — 

The two here must be wounded. — Say, good 
friends — 



22 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Ope wide the casket that the world has bruised 

And let the unbruised soul fly out of it. 

{Makes as if he would move toward Monaska.) 
W A LOON {lifting her hands ^ and 7noving forward as 
if to shield Monaska). 

No, no; not that; no! — They are beautiful. 
KooTHA. Then send them upward while they are 
so. Why 

Outlive the happy moment for one's death! 

A body maimed may mold a spirit maimed. 
Waloon. Their wounds are not so bad as that. 
KooTHA. Or good. 

(Waloon looks at him in a puzzled way?) 

I mean it — good. I mean it. Let me see them.' 
V^ A'LOOii gestures toward them andlLooTYLK continues 
to Haijo.) 
Sire, pin them down where they shall kneel before 

us 
And keep on kneeling till their life is through. 
Haijo. No, no ! — but I wait here, and you go back 
And tell them at the temple why I do it. 



' Haijo {to Waloon, as he looks toward the prisoners^. 
You call them beautiful ? When you have seen 
As much of men as I, you will think more 
Of greater spirits with their lives enshrined 
In mountain, valley, forest, bush, and flower 



THE AZTEC GOD. 23 

KooTHA {aside, as he moves toward Right First 
Entrance^ . 
Oh, heavens, I thought to help them! — but too 
late! 
jSxit — Right Front Entrance — Kootha. 

Haijo {to Waloon). 

You wish to save them, eh? — One way is 

Waloon {eagerly). What? 

Haijo. Why, make the king adopt them. This, 
you know. 
Is often done. Then they will be our own; 
As much so as if born here. Can you think 
Of anything he would not do for you? — 
The trouble is, I hear, that there are things 
You would not do for him, ha, ha, ha, ha! 
Oh, no offense! You know you are my ward. 
For one, I ward you from his majesty. 
Suppose you go, and tell your tale to him — 
The beauty of the prisoners, and your wish. 
I think that he would grant it. 

Waloon. Free them wholly? 



Than of these little spirits framed in flesh. 
Waloon. A great priest, you, and I a little maid. 
Haijo. And for our little maidens men like these 

Are sent at times on little missions to us. 
Kootha. Sire, pin them down, etc. 



24 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Haijo. Why, you can ask and learn. Should he 
refuse, 
They would be no more sure to die than now. 
(Haijo waves his hand?) 

Enter— from both Right and Left — Warriors 
with spears^ and stand watching Monaska 
and Wapella. 
Waloon. First I will tell them why I go 
away. — 
And you will guard them here? 
Haijo. As if the king 

Himself had ordered it. 
{Aside, as Waloon walks toward Monaska and 
Wapella who rise to receive her.) 

The girl is right. 
She knows what beauty is — ^just what we need! 
And not another fair-formed captive left us. 
The king will save them, not a doubt of that. 
We never found a pair of fairer gods. 
Waloon {to Monaska). 

I go to ask our king here to adopt you. 

{Pointing to Haijo.) 
This guardian of all our sacred things 
Will guard you sacredly till I return. 
Haijo {to Monaska ^//^ Wapella). 

Unless you mean to fly. Try that; no more 
Could you escape our warriors' darts, than 
dodge 



THE AZTEC GOD. 2$ 

The shadows of the trees through which you 
flew. 

£xzf — a^ the Right — Waloon. 

MONASKA {to HaIJo). 

You seem a prophet, sire? 
Haijo. They hold me such. 

MoNASKA {holding out his hand). 

And you could read my fate? 
Haijo. Not difficult. 

{Plucking a twig from a tree.) 
The tree's full growth is here, could one unfold 

it. 
Your future is the fruit of present dreams, 
The lure that leads the deepest wish within you ; 
The goal that lights the furthest path of hope. 
{Taking Monaska by the hand^ then dropping it.) 
A touch that feels the start can point the finish. 
Monaska. You think so? 

Haijo. There is nothing stops the flow 

Of thought betwixt my fingers and my brain, 
Betwixt your fingers and your brain; not so? — 

{Taking him by the hand again.) 
Now join these — what cuts off your brain from 
mine? 
Monaska. Our wills. 
Haijo. Yet if I yield my will to yours 



26 THE AZTEC GOD, 

MoNASKA. But can you ? 

Haijo. And if not, what boots the priest 

His years of fasting and of discipline ? — 

Besides, all lives are much alike. 
Monaska. They are? — ' 

Haijo. All lives are summers, veiled at either end 

In shadows of the spring and autumn storms. 

We pass from tears of birth to burial ; 

And in the brief, bright interval between 

There comes anon the fevered flush of life, 

Then paleness, then the fevered flush of death. 

Men leap and laugh, and then lie back and cough, 

Both but hysterical, betwixt the two. 



* How so? 

Haijo. All thorns or roses, if you please, 

Grown on the self-same bush. 
Monaska. Do all lives grow 

Both thorns and roses ? 
Haijo. Yes, we show the thorns 

To those who try to pluck us for themselves ; 

The roses to the ones that let us be. 
Monaska. And so you think all lives alike? 
Haijo. Allied. 

All lives, etc. 

* Monaska. A fire is brilliant, yet it burns us up. 
Haijo. In time. 

Monaska. Yet all life is a thing of time. 

Haijo. You hunger for excitement, man. You 
hail 



THE AZTEC GOD. 27 

Warring for power that more of war must keep, 
Pushing for place that prisons those who seize 

it, 
Kneeling for love to tramp on when they get it, 
Their little rest is large-brought weariness, 
And what they wish for most is mainly death. 

MoNASKA. A cheerful view ! 

Haijo. It was not volunteered. 

MoNASKA. My fate seems dark then? 

Haijo. Brilliant. 

MoNASKA. Brilliant t 

Haijo. Yes, ' 

Monaska. I shall not lose my life ? 



The trump of war, the tramp of onset, all 
That sweeps you on where drafts of life and love 
Fan up the flames that flicker in the breast 
And set the whole form's trembling veins aglow. 
Monaska. You read me well. 
Haijo. Suppose this heart a toy 

Wound up to run through just so many ticks 

Monaska. I see, you mean a fast life is a short 

life. 
Haijo. The fleetest foot is first beside the goal. 
Monaska. But if the goal be high as well as 

far 

Haijo. The bird of fleetest wing may fly the 

highest. 
Monaska. It may ! — A chance that I could risk !— 
If not. 



28 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Haijo. In every life, 

The first and final acts are tragedy. 

MoNASKA. But ere the final act? 

Haijo. The whole you wish 

Wil] come. 
MONASKA. All? 

Haijo. All. 

MoNASKA. But I am not unselfish. 

Haijo. You need not be — where all will rush to 

serve you. 
MoNASKA. And I am vain. 
Haijo. None will be clothed more richly. 
MoNASKA. And I have tastes. 
Haijo. Each meal will be a feast. 

MoNASKA. I would not slave it to these lower 
aims. 

I have ambition. 
Haijo. None will rank above you. 

MoNASKA. None? 
Haijo. I said it — none. 

MoNASKA. That cannot be. 

My birth 

Haijo. Who knows the place that he was born 

To fill? 
MoNASKA. High aspirations thrill my soul. 

More blest the short-lived moths that fly to 

flame 
Straight through a pathway lit by coming light 



THE AZTEC GOD. 2g 

Haijo. Have higher still. You will be like a god. 
(Aside.) 
Now will I see if he divine my meaning. 
MoNASKA. It may be when I die. 
Haijo (aside). 

Is not divined; or, if it be, 
He does not dream it will apply to him. 

(To MONASKA.) 

No; you mistook my thought. I spoke of 
earth. 

MoNASKA. Of earth? — You know, sire, I can tell 
it you — 
You know about the weaknesses of youth ? 

Haijo. Yes, you can tell me all. 

MoNASKA. I am not one 

Has lived or worked with other men. My soul 
Has dwelt alone, and sails the waves of life 
Like some stray oil-drop lost upon the sea, 
Refusing still, however wildly tossing. 
To lose or fuse itself in things about it. 
I have so craved a mate ! but, whoso came, 
The spirit that is in me would deny 
My clasping to a heart that might not beat 
In time to pulses of another's purpose. 
So what I would caress, I dared not touch, 



Than long-lived worms that crawl thro' endless mire. 
Haijo. Yours will be lit by coming light. 
MoNASKA. And I, 



30 THE AZTEC GOD. 

For fear the rhythm throbbing in my veins 
Would prove discordant and reveal us foes. 
Haijo. Ah! love you wish ? 
MoNASKA. Ay, sire, I would be loved. 

Haijo. You think that strange at your age, 

strange? 
Monaska. Not strange the wish — but could it be 

fulfilled 

Haijo. I said it should be. You shall be so loved 
That you will yearn for rivals more than see 
them.'" 
Monaska (looking at W a pell a, who has been 
watching them eagerly^ and now rises). 
Come tell his fortune too. 
Wapella. Yes, mine. 

Enter— from the Right — Waloon and the King. 

Haijo. The King. 

(All bow. The King speaks aside to Haijo.) 

The King desires that you retire, you three. 

(Motioning to Monaska, Wapella ^;?^Waloon.) 

Exeunt — at the Left — Monaska, Wapella and 

Waloon. 



'"MonAska. Will yearn— but how can this be true? 

You jest. 
Haijo. Is it my face or robe you deem a jester's? 
Monaska. You mean it? 

Haijo. It is in your hand, your face. 

I told you I had had experience. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 3 1 

King {to Haijo). 

What think you? 
Haijo. Just what she has told you, sire. 

No doubt, -about the beauty of the men. 
King. Nor of her love? 
Haijo. It seems to augur well. 

JLlijJG, . I feel not sure about your method. 
. Iaijo. No?— 

In lands like ours, a land controlled by law, 

Illegal force will rouse the people's wrath. 

But let her love the one we make a god, 

And wed his ghost, and dwell within the temple ; 

There he who is the head of our religion 

Can rightly represent the god, — not so? 
King. I see — a portion of the heaven of which 

The priesthood holds the key, is on the earth. 
Haijo (suddenly turning the subject). 

Sire, we must have some foe to sacrifice. 

For this year 

King. You will furnish one insured 

To break this maiden's heart. 
Haijo. A colt once broke 

Drives easily. 



Why do you doubt? 
MoNASKA. Because life never brought 

Aught like it. 
Haijo. Life brings day as well as night, 

When day, the wise will use the sunshine. 



32 THE AZTEC GOD. 

King. Let me not doubt again 

What power incarnates Providence on earth. 
Lead out this coming god. 
Haijo (looking toward the Left). Waloon, the King 
Desires to see the prisoners. 
Enter — -from the Left — Waloon, Monaska and 
Wapella. 
King {aside, as he looks at Monaska). 

Yes, yes, 
He is a fine one, no mistake ! Poor girl ! — 
But what were life without its discipline? 
And what are kings and priests for but to give 

it? 
No fetes are feasts with every course alike; 
And all fare better who begin with bitters. 

(To Monaska «;2^ Wapella.) 
Young men, your warriors came a long, hard way 
To fight with us. They should have stayed at 
home. 
Monaska. Our king, sire, sent them forth. 
King. Good! We shall keep 

Their flesh to fertilize our fields, and see 
That he has less to send the next time. Ha! 
(Warriors appear on every side, and, at a sign 
from the King, draw their bows on Mo- 
naska and Wapella). 
Waloon, stand back, there, from the prisoners. 
Waloon {to King). 

Ah, but you will not kill them, will ybu, sire? 



THE AZTEC GOD. 33 

King. Why not? — They would kill us. We only 
do 
What they would do. 
MoNASKA {aiming his baiv). 

Perhaps, when this has gone 
Through you, and through your pals too. 
Waloon (hurrying between King and Monaska, 

and speaking to Monaska). Wait. 
Monaska [bowing to Waloon). 

For you. 
Waloon (to King). 

Ah, sire, was it for this I urged them not 
To fly from here? — You surely will adopt them? 
King. And you would save my life and save his 
too? 

(To Monaska.) 
We both owe something to her love, you see. 
Monaska (to King). 

I read my pardon in your own face now. 
King. I feel no pity, and no love for you. 
If you are saved here, she alone has done it 
Thank her. 
Monaska (kneeling to her). 

I will, as I would thank an angel. 
King (to Haijo, aside). 

You see — we made no promises. Keep watch 
And never let them be alone together. 

Curtain. 



34 THE AZTEC GOD. 



ACT SECOND. 

Scene : — A walled open space within an Aztec fort. 
Backing at the Right, a closed gate guarded by 
Soldiers ; at the Left, the beginnings of a pyramid 
such as formed an Aztec temple. On the lower 
steps of this structure, forming a sort of throne for 
the King, rugs, etc. On the Right Side of stage, trees. 
On the Left Side of stage at the Third Left En- 
trance, curtains before a building evidently connected 
with the temple. Entrances : several at the Right 
through the trees ; at the Right Center through the 
Gateway ; at the Left Second to one side of the Tem- 
ple ; at the Left Third, through curtains into the 
Temple; at the Upper Left between the Temple and 
the Pyramid. Curtain rises on the gray light of 
dawn. Guards are at the gates, prisoners grouped 
about the space. Monaska and Wapella near Left 
Front. 

Wapella. I do not understand this. 

iVToNASKA. No ; but half 

The interest of life is in its puzzles. 

Wapella. I thought they set us free. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 35 

MoNASKA. I often think 

Some one is just about to set me free. 
I never found him yet. 
Wapella. We fare no better 

Than these, our fellow-prisoners. 
Monaska, That seems 

A lesson to our self-conceit. The wise 
Are grateful to their teachers. 
Wapella. You are sanguine. 

Monaska. Some men are born with light, aspir- 
ing blood 
That, bounding brainward, keeps the whole 
frame glowing. 
Wapella {pointing to the other prisoners). 

These men expect us to be put to death. 
Monaska. And some are born with heavy, slug- 
gish blood. 
That will not leave the heart but keeps it 
weighted. 
Wapella. They say they know the customs of the 

place. 
Monaska. We know its characters — the maid, 

priest, king 

Wapella. They say that captives here are sacri- 
ficed. 
Monaska. Not those the king himself has once 

adopted. 
Wapella. Then say why we are prisoned in a 
temple. 



36 THE AZTEC GOD. 

MoNASKA. Humph! your conundrum! Have 

not thought of it. 
Wapella. No; nor of anything outside the maid 

You have enshrined there in your heart. 
MoNASKA. With reason! 

Wapella. Would reason drop the curtain of the 
eye, 
And dwell in darkness, and be proud of it? 
Monaska, you are dreaming. You must wake 
And join us in our effort to escape. 
Monaska. You make it for yourselves. Why wait 

for me? 
Wapella. Why? — You outrank us. 
Monaska. There are no ranks here. 

Wapella. A leader, if he lead not, shames his 
birthright. 
Besides, we two have weapons left with us. 
You keep your club; I mine. The rest have 

none. 
Perhaps they merely overlooked our arms, 
And, when the morning comes, will take them 

from us. 
Before that, when the other guards withdraw. 
As they do always, when the signal sounds, 

^' for home. 
Monaska. The home to which the spider traps the fly ! 
Wapella. No soldiers watch that side the gate. 

»^ Wapella. Rather than 



THE AZTEC GOD, yj 

We can attack the two they leave behind. 
Each kill his man, and, while the rest break down 
The gate behind, can all of us rush out, 
O'ertake our friends and fly with them." 
MoNASKA. And we, 

To show our gratitude for being saved, 
Will leave two prostrate, murdered forms behind 
To do obeisance for us !" 
Wapella. They are foes. 

Can you a moment balance them against 
Your time-tried friends ? 

Exeunt — at the Left Upper Entrance — all the 
Guards but two^ who stand each side the 
gate. 

Look ! Now the guards have left. 
Monaska, come — I said you would. — They wait. 
{Pointing to other Prisoners.) 
Monaska. You seem suspicious. 
Wapella (excitedly) Dare you tackle them ? 
Monaska (angrily). 

Talk not of daring ! I will tackle you. 
Wapella (excited^ but trying to control himself). 
Forgive me — Why, you know I am your friend. 



Harm them, we all here should be murdered, eh? 
Monaska. If there were fear of that, the maid would 
never 

Have pleaded for us. 
Wapella. They are all our foes, etc. 



38 THE AZTEC GOD. 

We all are friends. Monaska, will you join 
us ? 
Monaska. Turn traitor to the ones that saved us ? — 

No. 
Wapella. But to your own land and your lands- 
men, yes. 
Monaska {drawing his club, and springing toward 
Wapella). 

That you must prove, or 

(Wapella draws his club and defends himself^ 
Soldier {at gate). Hold ! 

Enter— from the Left — other Soldiers and 
Officer. They separate, with spears^ 
Monaska and Wapella. 
Wapella {to Monaska). 

Now you have proved it. 
Officer {to Monaska and Wapella). 

Your clubs. 
Monaska. We were adopted. We are free. 
Officer {as he ^notions to Soldiers to take the 
clubs). 
You will not need these, then, to guard yourselves. 
(Soldiers take the clubs.) 
Efiter — through the curtains at the Left — Haijo^ 
KooTHA and other Priests. Haijo as- 
cends the steps of pyramid near the rugs. 
In his hand is a parchment^ 
Officer {to Monaska, Wapella and other prisoners). 
Stand back, and hear the royal proclamation. 



THE AZTEC GOD, 39 

Haijo {reading). 

Know, all ye captives, who have proved your worth 
By warding off when in the brunt of war 
The stroke aimed well to fell you, know to-day 
This temple celebrates its yearly f6te ; 
And hither wend the maidens of the realm. 
Commend yourselves to them, and woman's love 
Like that which gave our land its natural sons, 
Will make you sons of its adoption, sons 
And lovers, fit to claim their heart's devotion. 
For why should brave springs flow to waste, and 

not 
Augment the channels of the nation's life 1 — 
Go seek your cells, make ready, and come forth, 
And know the highest honors wait for him 
Whose charms prove greatest for the greatest 

number. 

MONASKA {to WaPELLA). 

There, there. I told you so. 

Wapella. Well, we shall see 

MoNASKA. That I shall wed the woman of my 

choice. 
Exeunt — Left Seco7id Entrance — all the Prisoners 

except Wapella. 
KoOTHA {aside, and looking toward Monaska). 
What fools we are when we would read ourselves. 
He thinks he craves the honors promised him 
Whose charms prove greatest for the greatest 
number. 



40 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Alas, the one thing that his nature craves, 
Is not a number. 
Exeunt — Left Second Entrance — Wapella, followed 

by some of the Soldiers. 
(KooTHA coming toward a Priest, to whom he 
speaks). 

Ah ! That proclamation 
Was worthy of the priest that penned it. 
Priest. Why ? 

KooTHA. Must be received with faith to seem a 
blessing ; 
And holds a promise that, whatever come, 
Will stand. 
Priest. And be fulfilled. 
KooTHA. Oh, yes — in form! 

But nothing like a priest's grip on a form 
To squeeze the spirit out of it. 

Enter — Left Upper Entrance— ^ w^ooYi. 
Priest. In that 

The promise pars with life; for nothing earthly 
Fulfills a promise just as it was given. 
KooTH A. Ay, while the eyes of hope are looking up, 
The devil trips the feet. But why should gods 
Make priests play devil? 

^* And go to him. 
KoOTHA {aside looking at Haijo). 

Oh, no, no ! After death 
I shall be freed, I think, from following him. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 4I 

Priest [noticing Haijo advancing). 

Hold ; you may play die.'^ 
{The stage grows gradually brighter?) 
(Exit — Left Front Entrance — Kootha and other 

Priests.) 
Waloon {to Haijo). 

Can it be true t 
Haijo. What true ? 

Waloon. Why, that the king 

Will put Monaska to the maiden's test ? 
Haijo. Of course. 
Waloon. Of course ? 

Haijo. Why not ? 

Waloon. Because the king 

Adopted him. 
Haijo. But you would not deprive 

The captive of his rights ? 
Waloon. His rights ? 

Haijo. What right 

Can any man have grander than to be 

A god ? ^' 
Waloon. I love him. 

Haijo. Then, if he should be 

The chosen of the gods, this would confirm 

** Waloon. A few- weeks' god? 

Haijo. Why, yes. You know 

The joy of life is in its quality, 
Not quantity. A heaven on earth — what is it 



42 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Your choice, and thus exalt both you and him." 
Waloon. I would not have him there. I wish him 

here. 
Haijo. If earth held all our souls could wish, no 
soul 
Could ever wish for heaven, 
Waloon. My heaven holds love. 

And what thrives there thrives here, and has a 

right 
To all things men can rightly let it have.^® 
Enter — Left Upper Entrance — the King with 
Attendants. 



But having what one wishes ? 

Waloon. This is cruel. 

Haijo. There are a score or more of prisoners. 
We need a man whose bearing can supply 
Attractions that will draw the souls o f all 
Toward him and toward the god he represents. 
The surest way of choosing such a man 
Is this one which the royal will decrees, 

Waloon. You know his beauty. They would all 
choose him. 

Haijo. Oh, no, no ; none know that ; and if they 
did, 
Would it be just in us to fail for this 
To let him be the chosen of the gods? 

Waloon. No, — of the maidens. 

Haijo. Of the maidens' love. 

And what than woman's love is more like gods'? 



THE AZTEC GOD. 43 

Waloon (to King). 

Great sire, they plan to do a great wrong here. 
King. How so? It shall be righted. 
Haijo (to King). 

She would keep 

Monaska from the test that makes him god. 
King. Oh — but — he has a right to it. 
Waloon. Yet, sire, 

A right that wrongs your kindly pardoning him. 
King. Why, no, no ! all our captives have that right. 
Waloon. But, sire, he, he would be the choice of 
all. 



Waloon. Oh, this is fearful, fearful! Think of me, 
Haijo. Of you ? 

*5 Waloon. But then he would belong — oh, not to 
me! 

But to the world, and to the world of women. 
Haijo. The thought of that is not inspiring ? 
Waloon. No. 

And soon he would be gone 

Haijo. Among the gods. 

'^ Haijo, Save when the gods 

Waloon. The gods I cannot see : 

In front of me I only see a man, 
Haijo. Then pray the gods to give you light. 
Waloon. How can 

I pray the gods to give me light, if those 

That have been sent to lead me where it shines 

Forever stand betwixt my soul and it? 



44 THE AZTEC GOD, 

King. So much more reason he should have his 

chance. 
Waloon. But I — I — love him. 
Haijo. If you loved him truly, 

You scarce would dare to stand between him, 
then, 

And that which lifts him to the gods. 
Waloon. You know 

I pleaded for his life. 

{Turning toward the King.) 
You gave it him. 

Now all of you seem plotting for his death. 
Haijo. Monaska had his choice. 
Waloon. His choice ? 

Haijo. Why, yes/' 

(The King nods approvingly^ a?id moves on with 
Attendants toward the pyramid^ 
Waloon (to Haijo). 

You told him all ? 
Haijo. Oh, no, not all. Why should I ? 

Waloon. Then I will tell him. 
Haijo. When the priests enjoin it. 

Till then, the only lips that can reveal 

One temple-secret speak from realms of death. 

And if as yet they have not entered these. 

It will become our duty to transfer them. 

^■^ Waloon. When was it ? 

Haijo. In the woods, "More blest," he cried, 

"More blest the short-lived moths that fly to flame 



THE AZTEC GOD. 4$ 

Waloon {surprised and in solicitude). 
I cannot speak to him ? 

Haijo. Speak all you wish. 

But if he learn too much, he cannot hide it. 

Waloon. Oh, cruel! I may speak — show all I 
wish — 
Except what fills the fount from which it 

springs. 
Can you not see what pain alone can keep 
The ever-swelling, surging, flood within? — 
Go bid the lake sleep on unheard, unseen, 
Whose tribute-streams are dashed from cataracts, 
Or waves are whirled by winds up toward the 
clouds 

Haijo. Ah, has it gone so far? 

Waloon. Oh, sire, too oft, 

A mood but half expressed is all distressed. 
What now is left my soul! 

Haijo. One course is left. 

The surest way to keep from feeling things 
Is not to touch them. 

Waloon. What were best for me. 

Is not the question. I would ward from him 
The fatal blight that follows woman's love. 
Accursed love, that makes the brightest eye 
A sunglass through which heaven would wilt the 
soul, 

Straight through a pathway lit by coining light 
Than long-lived worms that crawl through endless 
mire." 



46 THR AZTEC GOD. 

And by the very pleasure beauty gives 
Mete out the measure of impending doom. 
Haijo. What will you do then ? 
Waloon. Save him if I can. 

{Blast of trumpets^ followed by music. The 
King and Attendants arrange them- 
selves on the rugs at the base of the pyra- 
mid. The gates backing at the Right are 
thrown open?) 

Exit — Left Second Entrance, very hastily^ Waloon. 
Haijo {aside). 

Poor fool ! She does not know the surest way 

To guard her lover from the love of all 

Is letting him alone. About the lips 

Found sweet by merely one, all swarm like bees. 

But let that one forsake him all forsake him. 

Enter — through the Gate backing at the Right 
— Procession of Maidens and others^ 
bearing banners and wreaths and decorated 
with flowers. All sing from the following : 

Where dwell the gods ? 
Where dwell the gods ? 
Oh, dwell they in the sky? 
Or come they near in gloom or gleam 
Of earth or air or wood or stream ? 
Oh, yes, the gods are all on high ; 
But, robed in all that teem or seem 
Where eye can spy or fancy fly, 
The gods are always nigh. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 4/ 

How speak the gods ? 
How speak the gods ? 
In thunder from the sky ? 
In storms that o'er the cloud-banks pour, - 
Or dash in waves along the shore ? 
Oh, yes, the gods are all on high ; 
But not alone in rush and roar, 

Wherever breeze or breath can sigh 
The gods are always nigh. 

How touch the gods ? 
How touch the gods ? 
Oh, reach they from the sky 
Wherever airy fingers brush 
The leaves that throb, the cheeks that flush ? 

Oh, yes, the gods are all on high ; 
But in the thrills that fill the hush • 
When naught without is passing by, 
The gods are always nigh. 

Where look the gods ? 
Where look the gods ? 
In glances from the sky ? 
Down through the lightning's death-dealt blaze. 
Or thrilling through the starry rays ? 
Oh, yes, the gods are all on high ; 
But in the looks that on us gaze 
From out the love-lit human eye 
The gods are always nigh. 

{While singing^ the Maidens arrange them- 
selves in line from Front to Rear at the 
Right of stage^ 
King (looking toward Left Second Entrance), 
And now bring forth the prisoners. 



48 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Officer {standing near this entrance). 

They come. 
King {gesturing with his right hand). 
Arrange them here in line. 

Enter — Left Second Entrance — Captives, 
and are marched and formed i7i a line at 
the Left betzueen the pyra7nid and the 
Front of the stage. Monaska cotters last, 
and starids nearest the Left Front En- 
trance. 
Enter — at the Left Front Entra7ice — Waloon, and 

stands at the Left of Monaska. 
King. Now shall the eyes 

Of gods above look through the brightest eyes 
Whose glances light the earth, and whom those 

eyes 
Adore the most, him too shall all adore. 
{The King, looking at the Captives, converses with 

his Attendants.) 
{The Maidens look at Captives, especially at those 

nearest the pyramid, and converse together^ 
Waloon {to Monaska, in a half whisper, and not 
observed by others except hint). 
Monaska. 
Monaska {turning to her). 

What? 
Waloon. Look this way. 

Monaska. Could I else ? — 

{Gesturing and looki7ig toward the Maidens.) 



THE AZTEC GOD. 49 

Yet must I seek the favor of these maids. 
Waloon. Is not the favor of one maid enough ? 

MoNASKA. Enough and more — yet here 

Waloon. Confide in me. 

MoNASKA. Yes, wholly. 

Waloon. Then be wholly what I wish. 

MoNASKA. Be what? 

Waloon. One who will not attract attention. 

MoNASKA. Why, then 

Waloon. You might seem wholly mine. 

MoNASKA {aside, looking toward other Maidens). 

I see — 

brightest hour of all my life ! — I see 
She loves — and love, if shorn of jealousy, 
Drops half its charms, like maids whose locks 

are clipped, 
And better might be boys, or bald-head-babes. 
Waloon {taking him by the sleeve). 

Monaska. 
MoNASKA {aside, without looking at her). 

Now I heed her not. At times, 
Deceit that spices daintily with doubt 
The plain-served truth more seasons it to taste. 
Waloon {touching him again, and moving toward 
Left — Front Entrance). 
Here — something this way I would have you see. 
Monaska {looking at her, then speaking aside). 

1 must not lose my chances with the maids. 
And yet will humor her, and then return. 

4 



50 THE AZTEC GOD. 

{Turns toward Waloon aiid bows.) 
Exit — at the Left Front — Waloon. 
The highest honors wait for him alone 
Whose charms prove greatest for the greatest 
number. 

Exit — at the Left Front — Monaska. 
King {to the Maidens). 
Now to select your mates. 

{To the Captives.) 

Come forward, men. 
{To Haijo, looki7ig toward Left Front Entra?ice.) 
Saw you those two depart. She plans to tell 
him. 
(Maidens and Captives mingle and talk?) 
Haijo (to King). 

She will not; no. She will not dare. 
King. What then? 

Haijo. They will return. 
King. But if they love? 

Haijo. Then she 

Will play the woman, try to fascinate 
His eye, spell-bound till blind to charms of 
others. 
King. And he? 



»8 Not here. 
Monaska. Then I shall have to dance alone. 
Waloon. Why should you dance at all ? 
Monaska. Why? — Ask the leaves 



THE AZTEC GOD, 5 1 

Haijo. He is a man. What man will barter 

Self-love for woman's love? 
King. He may. 

Haijo. If so, 

Some other will be chosen. 
King. He must be it. 

Haijo. Safe statement, sire ! Small danger any 
man 
Will waive his chances for the highest honor 
To please a heart whose love is won already. 
King. You may be right. 
Haijo. It might be well to send 

A message to remind him of his chances. 
{To a Messenger, and pointing toward Left Front 
Entrance?) 
Saw you those two retiring to the left. 
Remind them of the royal proclamation. 
Exit — Left Second Entrance — Messenger. 
{Music and dance in which Captives and Maidens 
join. As the dancing ends,) 
Enter — Left Front Entrance — Monaska and 
Waloon. 
Monaska. You will not dance with me, Waloon ? 
Waloon. No, no." 



The reason why they vibrate in the breeze, 
Or ask the trees when swaying in the storm 
Ask of the spray-drop leaping from the rill, 
Or up and down amid the waves at sea ; 



52 THE AZTEC GOD 

( Trying to draw Monaska toward the Left Front 
Entrance. ) 

Monaska, do come this way — do, — I fear 

Monaska. You must not fear for me. 

Waloon. You do not know 

Monaska {taking her hand). 

You tremble. 
Waloon. Oh, love, do have faith in me! 

Monaska. And have I none? You tremble like 
a bird 
That once I caught. Poor thing, I could not 

harm it. 
So beautiful, so soft, with chirp so sweet! 
Waloon. But if you look that way, you do not 

love me. 
Monaska. And am I everything to you that you 



Ask of the circling smoke, tornado's cloud, 
The sun and moon revolving round the world. 
But when the throb of music beats the air 
And sets the currents of the breast in motion, 
Sweeping the bounding rills to rhythmic waves 
That dash like breakers through the heart and pulse, 
Ask not why every vein begins to glow, 
Each nerve to tremble, all the frame to heave. 
And to and fro to march, to leap, to dance, — 
Enough — if natural ! — You check our nature. 
You lay your human hands upon the work 
Heaven meant for what it is ; you are profane. 
{He makes motions of dancing.) 



THE AZTEC GOD, 53 

Should fancy you are everything to me? 
Waloon. And am I not then? 
MoNASKA. What a fire divine 

Must blaze within a woman's heart, who deems 
That her one form enkindled by its light 
Casts all things else in shade! 
Waloon. Do men love less? 

MoNASKA. Nay, but have eyes for things they do 
not love. 
And I, you know, am young, have seen not much, 

{^Looking toward Maidens again?) 
And nothing of these rites you know so well. 
Waloon. That whets my fear. I know them all 

too well. 
Monaska. My nerves are sensitive to form and 
hue. 

First Maiden {^pointing toward Monaska and speaking to 
Second Maiden). 
There comes another. 
Second M. Where? 

First M. There with Waloon. 

Third M. Oh, see! 
First M. We go to him. 

Second M. No, no ; not yet. 

Look there at that one. 
{Pointing toward WapellA, who is near the Left Upper 
Entrance.) 
TmRD M. Which one? 

Second M. That one there. 

{All three Maids move toward Left Upper Entrance.") 



54 THE AZTEC GOD. 

A little flitting of the two but serves 
To irritate and make me itch for more. 
But let me once be free to bound and whirl 
And scratch my gaze upon them in the dance, 
What cures me will not scar below the surface. 
Yes; I have better avenues through which 
These outer visions reach the heart. Besides, 
That now is wholly filled. No room is left 
For more than one. Believe me, I speak truth. 

Waloon. I know — I do not doubt you, but 

MoNASKA {laughing). 

You do. 
Come, come, confess now. You are jealous of me. 

Waloon. Not so ! No, you mistake me. Would 
the gods 
Would tell you why, or let me tell you why ! 

MoNASKA. You dare not tell me ? 

Waloon. Nay, I dare not ; yet — 

MoNASKA. Then, let me know it. 

Waloon. Come this way. 

MONASKA. I will. 

{Aside, as Waloon moves toward Left Front En- 
trance^ 
May be some untold penalty awaits 
The one who fails to win the maidens' favor. 

(Turns to follow Waloon, just as Haijo reaches 
hini^ coming from the rear.^ 

Haijo {to Monaska). 

What, man, you fear not you are losing time } 



THE AZTEC GOD. 55 

MONASKA (to HaIJO). 

When gaming something better? 
Haijo. What is better? 

MoNASKA. The worth of time is measured like a 
gem's 
Not by its bulk but by its brilliancy. 
Haijo. Just what I told Waloon you thought. 
{To Waloon who is listening^ 

Not so ? 

{To MONASKA.) 

But you — you heard the royal proclamation ? 
MoNASKA. I did. 

Haijo. And you would waive the highest honor ? 
MoNASKA. For something else, could I not have 

them both. 
Haijo. And wherefore not have both ? — 
{To Waloon.) 

You know, Waloon, 
He can. 
MoNASKA {to Waloon). 

I can, Waloon? 
Waloon. Have I not said? — 

Will you believe ? 

Haijo. This maiden, or the king ? — 

MoNASKA. This maiden. 
Haijo. Traitor ! 

MoNASKA. And the king. 

Haijo. Prove that 

By joining in the dance. — Come, — both together. 



56 THE AZTEC GOD, 

Waloon. Not I ! 
MoNASKA {aside to Waloon). 

Waloon, you need not fear for me, 
For if I venture in the dance at all, 
I dance to win. 
Waloon {anxiously). 

No, no; I meant 

(Maidens ^«//^^r around Monaska and Waloon.) 
First Maiden. Come, come. 

(To Waloon.) 
And dance with us if not with her. 
Second M. {taking Monaska by the hand). 

Come on. 
Third M. Yes, come. 
First M. You must. 

Third M. No backing out ! 

Second M. {taking his hand). 

With me. 
{They drag him with them into the dance.) 
Waloon {looking after him, as the music begins). 
Why did he not believe me? He is lost! 
{All the Maidens and Captives dance.) 
Exit — Left First Entrajice — Waloon. 
King. Now, silence ! Let the maids declare their 
choice, 
Their chief choice, gathering round his figure 

whom 
The god of love that looks through love-lit eyes, 



THE AZTEC GOD, 57 

The spirit that inspires love-throbbing hearts, 
Finds dowered with dignity and manly grace 
And beauty, and all heart-inspiring charms 
That fitly can incarnate love's ideal. 
Music. 
(The Captives stand in a line at the Left of 
the stage ; Monaska not far from its 
front. The Maidens, march along the 
line of the Captives, and drop flowers or 
wreaths in front of Monaska. Some 
drop them ifi front of other s^ but, seeing 
that Monaska will surely be chosen, they 
take the flowers from others and cast them 
before him, and gather round him. 
King (descending from his seat on the pyramid and 
taking Monaska by the hand,pointing with his 
free hand toward the seat he has Just left, at the 
same time bowing to Monaska). 
Chosen of love, now bow we to your worth. 
We yield to you, and lead you to your place. 
(All except the ILx^G prostrate themselves before Mo- 
naska.) 
Monaska. You do me too much honor. 

(The King bows, and shakes his head, while 
he begins to lead Monaska toward the 
seat at the base of the pyramid, fust as 
they reach it. 
Enter — at the Left Second Entraiice — throwing up 
her hands in grief, Waloon.) 



58 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Waloon. Chosen ? Lost ! 

The People chant : 

Where look the gods ? 
Where look the gods ? 
In glances from the sky ? 
Down through the lightning's death-dealt blaze, 
Or thrilling through the starry rays ? 
Oh, yes, the gods are all on high ; 
But in the looks that on us gaze 
From out the love-lit human eye. 
The gods are always nigh. 

Curtain. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 59 



ACT THIRD. 

Scene : — Same as in Act Second. The Gateway at 
the Rear open. Guards beside it. 

Enter — Left Third Entrance — Kootha." 
Enter — through Gate — backing at the Right — 

Maidens, talking loudly. 
Kootha. Hello ! these belles of ours proclaim their 
presence 



*^ Kootha. 

If what the priesthood teach us be the truth, 
Ay, if the gods do everything, themselves, 
Why should they smut our mortal souls to stoke 
The fuel of their smoking fires on earth? 
If they see everything, what need that I 
Play spy here to Monaska and Waloon? — 
Trail like a reptile's tail to prove them brutes. 
Where'er the love goes, which but proves them 

human ? 
The power that makes a man who would stand 

straight 
Prostrate and prostitute his nobler nature. 
Sneak dodge, crawl, shadow spirits bright as 

theirs 



60 THE AZTEC GOD. 

As ever by their tongues. Oh, for a pipe 
To pitch them to my tune ; ay, ay, a pipe 
To blow them up with, make them flip, flap, flop 
And whir for me, and stir the dust for me. 
And make them all my puppets. I will try it. 
Waloon might dodge away from them alive; 
But from Monaska, be there none to check 
The love she bears him, she will have no chance. 

May come from gods, but, if so, they have lent 

This part of their dominion to a devil. 

Perhaps they have — who knows ? — The priesthood 

claim. 
When earth is dark, by contrast heaven is 

bright — 
How could a mortal ever guess the greed 
Of gods for being glorified, unless 
What made mankind had damned the most of 

them 
To show how good it could be saving others? — 
How good ! — Ah, strange how much would not be 

thought 
Were it not taught ! A plague on their presump- 
tion 
Who first began to teach, and teach religion ! 
As if, forsooth, the heaven would be all dark 
Without our great lights of the temple here 
To thrust their smoking torches toward it ! — 

bah!— 
Well, well, who knows ? — One thing, at least, 

I know: 
They sin who shove a man and maid together ; 
And make it sin for them to touch each other. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 6l 

First Maiden. Oh, he is lovely! 

Second M. An ideal god ! 

First M. His form so graceful ! 

Second M. Yes, and so well built ! 

Third M. His touch so gentle ! 

First M. Such a godlike flush 

On all his flesh ! 
Third M. And flowering in his cheeks ! '° 

^^ First M. He seems a spirit lured to gates of dawn 
That, venturing near the clouds when all aflame, 
Had been snatched up within their ardent arms 
And borne to earth with all their glow about him. 
Second M. And from his lips that have not lost the 
tint 
Of daybreak yet, there breathe forth sweeter 

sighs 
Than morning air brings when it drinks the dew. 
First M. Ay, ay, than morning air brings when it 
rings 
With all the choruses of all the birds. 
Third M. That warmth of welcome in his eyes 

too! 
First M. Yes, 

And fire behind them, fire that when one 

feels 
The innermost recesses of the soul 

Begin to 

KooTHA {interrupting her). 

Burn. — Confess they burn. 
First M. {to Kootha). 

Who spoke 
To you, uncouth one? Off! 



62 THE AZTEC GOD. 

KooTHA. My, my ! how mighty fine my fancies 

are ! 
Second M. A woman's fancy may be near the 

truth. 
KooTHA. As near as fire to water. Yonder pool 
Is truth. The sunbeam it reflects is fancy. 
One water is, one fire. But, as you say, 
The flaming of his eye has turned the sap 

Once oozing from your useless lips to 

{^Hesitating. ) 
Second M. What? 

KooTHA. Why, flames turn sap to soft and sticky 
sirup " 



{Continuing to other Maidens.) 

They rout the gloom 
Within the heart sure as the morning sun 
That spreads new glory o'er the darkened 

world, 
The while its fire-sped lances tilt the shades 
That fly afar, and leave our lives with 
heaven. 

^' Tell now which sweet lips were they that the 
god's 

Were stuck to last ? 
First M. You heartless man ! You know 

We love the god. 
KooTHA. Oh, yes ! — the god in man — 

The god it takes a woman's eye to see. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 63 

Which one of you was it, the god kissed last? 
First M. Is knowing that your business? 
Third M. Just so! 

KooTHA. Oh yes, — the business of all men. 
First M. Why? 

KooTHA. Have you observed which maid it is that 
proves 

The most attractive to the most men? 
Second M. No. 

Third M. Tell which? 
First M. Yes, tell us. 

KooTHA. Why, of course, the one 



Second M. And what, pray, is it that men wor- 
ship? 

KooTHA. Oh, 

The thing that most men worship is themselves. 
Or, look they upward, then it is the god 
Most like themselves. You know religion's aim 
Is bringing gods and men together ; so 
To many men that creed seems best, which best 
Makes out how mean and small a god can be. 

Second M. {^saucily). 

Does that mean anything? 

KooTHA. You think not? 

Second M. No. 

KooTHA. Not so? not so? — Come back then to your 
range — 
Which one, etc. 



64 THE AZTEC GOD. 

The most attractive to the most of them. 
Ha, ha! 

( Continuing^ as they turn away in anger. ) 

You see that most men are such apes 
They never know which girl to go for next, 
Until they see where some one else has gone. 

Second M. (sarcastically). 

Aha! you think that we wish you, then? 

KooTHA. Yes, — 

Away from here. But, frankly now, my mind 
Had stumbled on the impression that a maid 
Looks on her lovers as a Toltec brave 
On scalps: she likes to see them hanging on 
Her neck — at least in presence of such mates 
As make no conquests. 

Second M. {sarcastically). 

Ah? and who are they? 

KooTHA. The town will find them out, some day, 
I guess. 

Third M. Not our fault, then? 

KooTHA. Humph, what are women for? 

And what are you about the temple for? 

Third M. Go ask Waloon. 

Second M. Yes, yes, go ask Waloon. 

KooTHA. Ah, then, there is a favored one I see. 

Second M. Did I say that? 

KooTHA. You had no need. You know 

A friend can heed the meaning of our thought 
Though void of sound or gesture. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 65 

First M. You a friend? — 

Drive off Waloon then. 
KooTHA. I? — a woman-driver! — 

But were she more the dove that he esteems her, 

And you still less old hens than you appear, 

I think you might find bills to settle with her, 

And raise a cackle that would make her fly. 
{Aside.) 

Ugh! I have roughed their feathers now enough. 

Poor, poor Waloon ! — and yet her only safety. 
Enter — at the Left Second— y^ M.00^ . 

Ah, there she is herself. , 
First M. {noticing Waloon). 

Oh, here comes one 

That loves the god. How nice to love a god! 
Second M. But not so nice to pose as loving one, 

And only love a man. 
First M. You wait awhile. 

When they have spilt the spirit in that vessel, — 

Ay, when the blood is drained, it may not then 

Appear to her so rare and rose-like. 
Second M. (to Waloon, sarcastically). 

Ah, 

You seem surprised? 
Waloon. I am. 

Third M. And grieved? 

Waloon. And more. 

All the Maidens. Ha, ha, ha, ha! 
Waloon. I am surprised and grieved, 



66 THE AZTEC GOD. 

And more than this — to think that you are 
women, 
KooTHA (aside). 

Aha ! Had not found out that fact before ? — 
She knows it now, for they know how to prove 
it. 

{To the Maidens.) 
Come, come, be not so cruel. Be more gentle. 
First M. Are cruel, are we? If she like it not. 
She need not strike at our likes. Did she deen? 
It kind to push between us and the god 
The wide-spread drapery of her greedy arms 
As if, forsooth, our hope were killed, and she 
A vulture feasting with foul wings aflap? 
Second M. Nay, more, too, make us laughed at, 

slighted, scorned? 
Waloon. I did not mean it so. This friend 
of mine. 
Was mine before you chose him for the god. 
First M. Was yours ? — and now you mean to keep 
him yours ? — 
And so your eyes are always dodging his 
To catch their glances ? Did you turn your back, 
You fear he might forget you ? 
All the Maidens. Ha, ha, ha I 

Enter — Left Third Entrmice — Haijo. 
Exit — Right Second Entrance — Kootha, as soon as 

he catches sight of Haijo. 
Haijo {to the Maidens). 



THE AZTEC GOD. 6/ 

Why, what can be the matter here? 
First M. Waloon. 

Second M. Waloon. 
Third M. Waloon. 

First M. She says the god is hers. 

Haijo. Of course, but not hers only. 
First M. Yes, hers only, 

Haijo. Oh, you mistook her. 
Third M. No. 

Second M. Is what she meant, 

First M. She called him " mine." 
Haijo. Meant hers ? 

First M. Yes, hers. 

Second M. Hers. 

Third M. Hers. 

Haijo {to Waloon). 

Can this be true ? 
Waloon. I said my friend was mine 

Before they chose him. 
Haijo. Ah, but they did choose him ; 

And now, according to the temple's law- 

Waloon {half weeping). 

You mean he is not mine, I know. 
Haijo. My child, 

I hoped your training — — 
Waloon. Do not think that men 

Can ever change our nature by their training. 

Nay, clip, abuse, deform it as you may. 



68 THE AZTEC GOD. 

The weakest bush will bear its own flower still, 
And every heart the love life made it for." 
Second M. She keeps us from him. 
Haijo. If she do this more 

The law will interfere, and part them wholly. 
Enter — through the gate backing at the Right — 
Attendants, Pages, Priests, Priest- 
esses, etc.^ singing before a chariot in 
which MoNASKA is drawn upon the stage. 



2^ Haijo, Ah, so ! You think ! — Who taught you, 

pray, to think ? 
Waloon. My mind, sire, and the gods from whom it 

came. 
Haijo. Be careful, child ; nor force us to use force, 
Waloon. Ah, sire, sire, when you come to deal with 
thought. 
The only influence force can have upon it 
Is to suppress but leave it still possessed. 
If error be in mind, it seems far better 
To let it out, and so be rid of it. 
Haijo. No need that we discuss that now! You 
know 
The temple's law, that when one will would stand 
Against the general good, that will must yield. 
Waloon. I was not speaking of my will, but heart, 
Haijo. Well, call it heart then. You have thrust 
your love 
Between these maidens and the god. They claim 
The joy and profit of his intercourse. 



THE AZTEC GOD, 69 

His head is crowned with flowers^ and he 
thumbs a lyre-hke musical instrument. 
Ail sing from the following : 

All hail the god ! All hail and laud 

The god we now enthrone, 
Whose realms extend, all bright and broad 
Beyond the seas and stars and aught 
That ears have h sard, or eyes have sought. 

Or hands could ever own. 



Waloon, They might have shared these with me. 
Never yet. 
Have I been left alone with him. 

Haijo. And who 

Could claim exclusive rights when with the gods^ 
Whose eyes see all, whose arms embrace the 

world. 
And if incarnate for a time in man. 
How base in us to tempt their high, pure life 
Toward our low, selfish human love for one ! 

Waloon, Is that why we were watched? 

Haijo. Did you not need 

A hint that others too had claims upon him ? 
What profit is it though a god may dwell 
In human form, if souls, whom else the god 
Would lure to love and draw to sympathy 
With heavenly thought and deed and light and 

life. 
Be kept away from him by one like you ? 

First M. Just what we ask. 

Haijo. What all the wise would ask. 



70 THE AZTEC GOD. 

All hail the god ! All hail the god \ 

Upon the man we call ; 
But bright behind the gaze we greet. 
There gleams a glory yet to meet 
Our souls beholding past the gloom 
Of toil and trouble, tear and tomb, 

The god beyond it all. 

All hail the god ! All hail and laud 

The god we bow before, 
Whose altar fires, while all are awed, 
Are lit in souls that flash through eyes 
That light for heaven itself supplies. 

Nor could one wish for more. 
All hail the god ! All hail the god ! 

Upon the man we call ; 
But bright behind the gaze we greet. 
There gleams a glory yet to meet 
Our souls beholding past the gloom 
Of toil and trouble, tear and tomb. 

The god beyond it all. 

First M. {to Monaska, as he descends from the 
chariot^ while all bow to him). 
All hail the god ! 
Second M. All hail ! 

Third M, All hail I 



^2 1 like not hail-storms but the gentler sunshine. 
{^Pushing through ihem toward WalOON.) 
Yet sometimes through the arch-bow of the 
storm 



THE AZTEC GOD. 'J\ 

First M. {^noticing that he pays no attention to the 
salutations of the Maidens, although they are 
making every effort to attract his attention). 

All hail! 
MoNASKA {^glancing around rather scornfully ^^ and 
taking W A LOON by the hand). 
You do not speak to me. — Why this ? — Why this ? 
Waloon {gesturing toward the other Maidens). 
They chose you. They have claims upon you 
too. 
MoNASKA. Claims to my gratitude — I yield them 
these. 
Claims to my love ? — Ah, no. 
Haijo. And you will not 

Accede then to their claims ? 
MoNASKA. Their sex's claims 

Are well acknowledged, as I think, by him 
Who plights his whole soul's faith to one of them.^* 
Why, I would not insult these women so 
As to suggest that love for one alone 
Did not fill my whole heart to overflowing. 
You seek here room for more ? — Then you mis- 
take. 



Life enters on its heritage of hope. 

2* Haijo {gesturing toward the other Maidens). 

Nay ; plight your faith to all of them. 
MONASKA. To all ?— - 



72 THE AZTEC GOD, 

{Addressing the Maidens, who seem offended at his 
language). 
And can it be that I had not revealed 
The truth? Forgive me. I had meant to do it, 
The time has come to end your doubt? — I will. 
Here stands the holy father. Here stand we. 
{Looking toward Haijo a?id taking Waloon's hand^ 
then leading her toward the Right. ) 
Yes, it is time our vows were made in public. 
What ? what ? — you hesitate ? — you do ? — you 

do? 

Exeunt — Right Second Entrance — Monaska and 

Waloon. 
First M. {to Haijo). 

And would we better follow ? 
Haijo. Wherefore not ? 

The mood is on her now to thrust him off, 
And if she do but push him far enough, 
What should he do but tumble then toward you. 
Enter — through gate at the Right Rear — King and 
Attendants. 
Exeunt — Right Second Entrance — Maidens. 
King {to Haijo). 

How fares it with the god ? 
Haijo. His heavenly mood 

^^ King. The egotist ! 

Haijo. Yes, but we all are that. 

The spirit, we are told, is made of air. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 73 

Is yet upon him. 
King. He does not suspect ? 

Haijo. Not he — why, he was just now ordering 
me 

To seal his vows, and wed him to Waloon. 
King. He does not deem it strange we honor him? 
Haijo. Each to his own conception is a god. 

Proclaim him this, you but concede a claim 

Long felt within. He knew it all before. " 
King. How to himself, does he explain the way 

That all the maidens wait upon his wishes? 
Haijo. He thinks they deem him lord of all 
creation. 

And so they do, forsooth. Their bearing proves it. 

King. He deems Waloon? 

Haijo. His only, through and through. 

King. She never can be more completely his? 
Haijo. Impossible. 
King. The time to pluck a flower 

Is just when in its bloom. 
Haijo. I think so, sire. 

The hour has come to tell him of his fate. 

A member of our nearer tribes would know it. 

He knows it not. Waloon now shuns him. Look. 
{^Pointing to Right. ) 

Like air it is in this, — ^will force its way 
And feel full right to enter and possess 
Whatever space a crack or crevice opens. 



74 THE AZTEC GOD. 

And he must find excuse for this, or else 
May turn away from her, and seek another. 
If so, he may not always keep her love. 
Besides, Monaska ought to know the truth — ^^ 

King {looking and poifiiing to Right). 
I see him coming this way now. 

Haijo. With some 

Request, I warrant. 

King. Wise men do not greet 

A supplicant with too open hand and heart. 
Did gentleness not midwife his desires. 
His cries would sooner die for lack of nursing. 
And so I think they best refuse requests 
Who best refuse to hear them. Let us go. 

^^ Is wasting time with her. 
King. Has naught to do 

With others? 
Haijo. No ; and therefore should be told 

Our laws must part him from her. 
King {looking and pointing to Right). 

You are right. 

2' He never holds a steady eye to greet 
The look that rests on him. It seems as if 
He feared that one might spy within his brain 
Some secret that a dodging glance could shield. 
I fear the secret may concern Waloon. 
For ever when I lead her where I hope 
No mortal will be present to profane 
Vows fit for only gods to hear, some form. 
With eyes omniscient as a very devil's 



THE AZTEC GOD. 75 

Exeunt — Left Second Entrance — King and Haijo. 
Enter — Right Third Entrance — Monaska. 

MoNASKA. A generous mind is never loath to face 
The object of its benefaction. No; 
Had all that they have done been kindly done, 
They would not thus have turned their backs 

upon me. 
That Haijo is no man to harbor trust." 
Just now, when here I came, he too was here. 
We left him, and Waloon was deaf to me. 
What drug to hearing poured he in her ear 
To deaden nerves hereto so sensitive 
To slightest whispers of my thrilling love 
That hands, voice, lips and eyelids, all her frame 
Went trembling like a willow in a wind P'^® 



Incarnate in an earthly messenger, 
Outspawns its fouling shadows on the light 
Like night-shades to the lost who pray for day. 

28 It cannot be the cause is in herself. 
Or is it? — May she merely pity me, 
Whose life she saved, as thousands might be 

saved ; 
And, moved by pity still to note my state, 
Thus hinder me from fully asking what, 
If rightly answered, would but seal my doom?- 
No, I have asked her fully — ay, and she — 
Those eyes — ah, naught but light divine as 

love's 
Could so illumine, so transfigure her ! 



"J^ THE AZTEC GOD. 

Enter — Left Second Entrance — Haijo. 
Haijo. Alone, Monaska ? 
MoNASKA. Yes. 

Haijo. Alone ? Alone ? — 

With all those maidens praying for your presence ? 
Monaska. I dodged behind a tree, then, when they 
left, 

Came here. 
Haijo. A valiant warrior ! 

Monaska. Yes — with men. 

Haijo. With women ? 
Monaska. He with her I think is valiant 

Who waives what would be force. 
Haijo. And runs away ? 

Monaska. Why, yes, if elsewise he might be un- 
gentle. 
Haijo. Your waste of time does not yet weigh 
upon you."^ 

You craved for love. 
Monaska. Ay, and you promised it. 

Haijo. You have it. 

59 Monaska. My what? 

Haijo. You chose a life not long, but brilliant, 

Monaska. If so 

Haijo. Is brilliant now, but will be brief. 

Monaska. Be brief? 

Haijo. Enough, I hope, to make you ply 

Your opportunities. 
Monaska. And what are they ? 

Haijo. You craved for love, etc. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 77 

MoNASKA. Have it ? — No, I have it not. 

Haijo. Your heart must be a very glutton then. 

With all these maids 

MoNASKA. And what are they— to love? — 

Haijo. They chose you, yet you turn your back 

upon them.^° 
MoNASKA. Chose me, and not I them. 
Haijo. You courted them. 

MoNASKA. Oh, no. 

Haijo. You sighed, you smiled, you sued, and 
wooed. 

MoNASKA. You overstate 

Haijo. What made you leave Waloon ? 

MoNASKA. I leave her.? 

Haijo. You. — When, just before the dance, 

She talked with you aside, and begged you not. 

Were you so wholly satisfied with her. 

That was the time to show it. 
MoNASKA. But — the king — 

His proclamation, and the highest honor- 



2° MONASKA. But you know why: I turn my back on lust 

That I may turn my face to love. 
Haijo. Poor fool, 

But one life can you live, and yet you lose it ! 
MoNASKA. But one love can I keep, and I shall 

keep it. 
Haijo. Too bad you had not thought of that before. 
MoNASKA. Before? 
Haijo. Ay, ay, before the maidens chose you. 



78 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Haijo. You have it now. You gained it leaving 
her. 

MoNASKA. I left her for a moment only. 

Haijo. So. 

Great fires are kindled in a moment only 
Where hearts are tinder, and a glance a spark.^^ 

MoNASKA. But how could I have known the choice 
meant this ? 

Haijo. Who knows the fruitage of the seed he 
plants ? — 
Like seed, like fruit. 

MoNASKA. The seed was very small. 

Haijo. The fruitage large ? — Yet both were one in 
kind. 

MoNASKA. Nay, tho' my transient look went wrong, 
my feet 
Have followed righteousness. Ah, sire, you know 
The only harvests heaven can ever find 
Unfold from germs dropped near enough to hell 
To fear its heat and grow away from it. — 
Why was it wrong to seek the highest honor ? 
How could one know it could not come with her ? 

Haijo. You think that one small man's experience 
Embraces in its clasp the whole broad earth ? — 
Nay, it is finite. Every path has limits. 

31 Why there 

MoNASKA. Aha, those dusky robes of priests 

Astride the broken beam of every ray 
That bridged my prison's gloom have not been ghosts 



THE AZTEC GOD. 79 

Climb up to mountain-tops, you turn away 

From flower and verdure, spring and warmth, 
to dwell 

With rock and weariness and thirst and chill. 
MoNASKA. Oh, this is preaching ! And you prom- 
ised me 

A brilliant life 

Haijo. Life brilliant far beyond 

Your highest hope. 
MoNASKA. Nay, nay, you promised love. 

Haijo. The choicest maidens of the realm are 

yours. 
MoNASKA. But not Waloon ! 
Haijo. Is his experience then 

So strangely brilliant who is loved, forsooth, 

By one maid only ? 
MoNASKA. It may not be brilliant. 

But like a star in heaven it fills with light 

One point — that where the gods have placed it. 
Haijo. You — 

Why, you are a sun round which mere stars revolve. 

Your dignity has larger, broader range 

Than gains fit homage from the love of one ; — 

Which, if you have not learned, you should be 
taught. 
MoNASKA. And yield Waloon? 

To haunt my love alone? They have been fiends 
To turn it to a curse. 
Haijo. Blame your ovs^n choice. 



So THE AZTEC GOD. 

Haijo. Waloon — till you can yield 

Your love to others. 

Exit — Left Third Entrance-— Haijo. 
MoNASKA. What? When I have let 

Their lustful kisses drain the dew of youth, 
Give her the parched and lifeless remnant? — No. 
Go take that wolf-skin from the snarHng hounds 
When all the blood has been sucked out of it, 
And flesh gnawed off, and fling it, cold and limp. 
Out to another wolf panting for a mate; 
But ask me not to fling love's foul cold carcass 
Out to her arms to whom I owe my life. — 
Oh, cursed fate! 

Enter — Left Second Entrance — W a pell a with a 
Woman. 

Wapella, you here? Oh 
Wapella, you were right! — And who is this? 
{^Gazing at the Woman at Wapella' s side.^ 
Wapella. My wife. 
MoNASKA. Your wife? — Beware — you cannot 

keep her. 
Wapella. Oh, no one cares what I do here! 
Not I, 
You, you, you know, have won the highest honor. 
Monaska. Yes — won the highest honor. I, for- 
sooth, 
I have, Wapella. Ah, why are the scales 
That measure what our world is worth so poised 
Betwixt the outward and the inward life 



THE AZTEC GOD. 8 1 

That what lifts up the one must lower the other ? 
Why, when we reach the highest earthly place 
Must this be balanced by the spirit's fall ? 
Enter — Right Second Entrance — other Maidens and 
Waloon, who is back of them. 
(MoNASKA continues — -pointing to Waloon.) 
Wapella, there is heaven ; and all the world, 
A world that will the more pollute my soul, 
The more I try to cross it, lies between 
Myself and it, and keeps me here in hell. 

Curtain. 



82 THE AZTEC GOD. 



ACT FOURTH. 

Scene First : — Interior of a room or hut hung with 
curtains^ evidejitly used as a prison for Monaska. 
Entrance at the Left Front. Curtai^i rising dis- 
closes Monaska dressed hi gorgeous apparel. He 
has on a garlajided head-dress and in his hand a 
large lyre-like musical instrument. Kootha, who 
apparently has just finished robing him., stands 
regarding him.^'^ 

Enter— from the Left — Haijo. 

Haijo {to Monaska). 
Good day. 

Haijo (motions to Kootha to retire.') 
Exit — Left — Kootha . 

Monaska. I have my doubts if it be good. 

Each time you come to me and call it so, 
Your coming makes me more your prisoner. 

^' Kootha. You seem a rising sun. Each time the 
crowd 
Renew their gaze on you , your splendor grows. 
Monaska. And when, at last, they tone me to a 
pitch 
That no new height of splendor can transcend, 



THE AZTEC GOD. 83 

Haijo. Of course, if you will yield not to our 
ways 

MoNASKA. If I gulp not the feast you gorge me on, 
And bury all my soul beneath the spoils 
Of foul and glutton appetite — why then 
I will not prove the bloated beast you wish. 

Haijo. We hope that you will prove a god. 

MoNASKA. What forms 

Your test of godhood? 

Haijo. What is it shall bring 

The spirit of the fair- god back to earth, 
When once again his white-winged vessels leave 
Their land of ease, and brave the sea for us? 

MoNASKA. I know not — What? 

Haijo. Self-sacrifice. 

MoNASKA. Yes, yes, 

I see — perhaps I wronged you. You may light 
These fires of fierce temptation round me but 
To test my metal. — Have I triumphed then? 

Haijo. Triumphed? O'er what? — Ispokeofsac= 
rifice. 

MoNASKA. And I have sacrificed low love for 
higher. 

Haijo. You call that sacrifice? 

To get more halo, will they burn me up? 
KoOTHA. Oh, no, not that ! 
MoNASKA. How long now will it be 

Before this play will climax? 
KooTHA {looking towards Left). Some one comes. 



84 THE AZTEC GOD. 

MoNASKA. What ? Is it not ? — 

To give up what is earthly for the heavenly ? — 
Turn from the serpent coiled within the loins 
To follow in the flight of that fair dove 
Whose wings are fluttering within the heart ? 

Haijo. To turn from those you loathe to those you 
like ?— 
I did not speak of that. 

Monaska. Ah, not of that ? 

Of what ? 

Haijo. Self-sacrifice. 

Monaska. That sacrifice 

Is due to self. 

Haijo. And if it be ? 



^^ Haijo. May be, too, 

That what you speak of, is too fine for some 
To care to handle. 
Monaska. Care not for the spirit? — 

What are your gods ? 
Haijo. The sovereigns of our temple. 

Monaska. The outward temple only, not the in- 
ward? 
Haijo. You deem the sovereigns of the two may 

differ? 
Monaska. I do. I know of priests who judge of 
gods 
Like altars by their gilding, to whose greed 
One god in hand is worth a score in heaven. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 85 

MoNASKA. Why, sire, 

You think to force my fate ; and if you do, 
There may be sacrifice, but not by self. 

Haijo. That does not matter. 

MoNASKA. Does not? — in a spirit — 

You would make godlike? 

Haijo. Should it? Why? 

MoNASKA. Because, 

Each time you try to mould a spirit's life 
With fingers grappling from the fist of force. 
You clutch but at the air, at what is far 
Too fine for force to handle. ^^ 

Haijo. May be, so. 
And you will not be ruled 



For every time they kneel to touch their puppet, 
It shakes to sprinkle gold-dust on them. 
Haijo. Hold ! 

Where were you reared to such impiety ? 
MonaskA. Where sun, moon, stars rained from the 

blue above 
And flowers were fountained through the green 

below, 
Where lights we knew not what, but they were 

heaven's, 
Looked down on eyes that looked up from the 

earth. 
And men, whatever might impel their souls, 
Were guided onward by a goal to mate it. 



86 THE AZTEC GOD. 

MoNASKA. By what you urge? — - 

I cannot. 
Haijo. Yet they chose you as their god, 
MoNASKA. Then it befits me like a god to live. 
Oh, sire ! those are most worth our help on earth 
Whose eyes look up, and he who stands above 
them, 



Haijo. Ay, and by priests and prophets. — Tell the 
truth. 

MoNASKA. Yes, there were those who dreamed, and 
those who deemed 
In darkness they saw forms that had been earth's, 
And heard their words, and they believed it true 
That there was life behind the sights we see. 
But those who stood the highest of the high, 
And knew our poet-king were taught to look 
Upon a God beyond the reach of men. 

Haijo. Beyond their reach, what were he worth ! 
Young man, 
You have your priests, your temples, ay, we know 

it, 
And have but one religion. 

MoNASKA. And we speak 

One language too, but differ in the accent. 
The language gives the passwords of the race. 
The accent keys the culture of the home. 
And some were welcome at the royal home. 

Haijo. And there were taught religion? 

MoNASKA. There we heard 

The poems of our prince ; and prized them not 
Because his tongue controlled us, but his truth. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 87 

Would he fulfill their soul's ideal, must show 
A life worth while their looking up to see. 

Haijo. Well, then, prepare to die. 

MoNASKA. To die ? 

Haijo. To-day. 

MoNASKA. Ye gods ! I had not thought of that—^ 
so soon ? 



Haijo {contemptuously). 

Religion of a poet ! — upside down 

And inside out, to fit each freak of fancy ! 

MONASKA. Religion of a man, sire. You would say 
One cannot see the spirit save through forms. 
Yet who can see through forms, except as these 
Obscure the spirit? Be it so, why, then 
Our king was right to bid us use our eyes, 
Yet not believe that what we saw was all. 
And what we cannot see, yet feel exists, 
We cannot think of, save as we imagine. 
And so the phase that best reports the spirit 
Is that of poetry, — so said our king. 

Haijo {sarcastically). 

His was a vague religion ! 

MoNASKA. Not so vague 

As that religion is whose forms befriend 
A life to which all laws within the soul 
Are foes. Our king with his one queen would 

never 
Have sanctioned, much less led himself, a life 
Like that. Oh, something surely must be wrong 
When that which rules without rules not within. 

Haijo. And you will not be ruled, — etc. 



88 THE AZTEC GOD. 

So soon ? — why, you had promised I should have 
My fill of love ! 
Exit — Left — Haijo, paying no heed to his words, 
MoNASKA, noticing this, goes on. 

What fool is more a fool — 
What foe is falser — than one false to self? — 
And false, forsooth, because of flattery — 
Nor of the soul — but of this outward frame, 
Frame destined for a shattered wreck to-day. 
No, no ! — not that — it cannot be ! No, no ; 
It is against all nature I should die. 
What have I lived for, if I am to die ? 
How sinks my heart within me ! Frail, faint 

heart ! 
And it had so much life ! I thought its thrills 
The rilling of a fount whose brook should flow 
Out to a sea of life, as wide as earth, 
And upward to a golden clouded heaven. 
Why, all my moods — they banner spring-time yet. 
The buds but just unfolding, scarce a flutter 
To balm the breeze with their sweet promises ! 
Must all be now cut off? — uprooted ? — what? 
The prickliest cactus clutches, at the last, 
The flower toward which it grows ; and shall these 

nerves, 
All tender to the touch of life, so live 
Themselves, so hungry to be fed, yet void 
Of all with which hope pledged them to be filled — 
Shall they be cheated out of this they craved ? 



THE AZTEC GOD. 89 

Are all the visions of the fancy frauds 
That fool our faith, anticipating joy 
That never comes? Is that mysterious power 
That prompts our lives to be, and pushes on 
Toward what it promised them, so vilely weak 
That, like a knave who fears to be outwitted, 
It needs must lash and lure us with a lie? — 
Yet now — O heaven! I will not so believe it. 
I cannot; no. — 

Enter — Left — Kootha. 

Here comes one who will tell me. 
Kootha {to Monaska, who looks at him sharply). 

Well, sire? 

Monaska. That priest has left me. 

Kootha. Yes, I see. 

Monaska. He says I am to die. 

Kootha. Most mortals do. 

Monaska. He says to-day. 

Kootha. Bad jobs are at their best 

When nearest ended. 

Monaska (in surprise). You! — indifferent? 

Kootha. Same thing — am old. 

Monaska. And so are hard? 

Kootha No, soft; 

Have learned to yield to what could not be 

blocked 
By my opposing it. I know no rose 
That blooms but fades. 

Monaska. Yet men 



90 THE AZTEC GOD. 

KooTHA. Oh, yes, yes, men 

Are different, I know. I know, for men 
Not o'lily fade but worse — 
MoN ASK A {distressed ) . 

Why picture it? 
KooTHA [intentionally harsK)^^ 

I own no pigment dull or vile enough. 
MoNASKA. You deem these foul drafts bitters fit 
to whet. 
An appetite for death ? Man, I am young. 
KooTHA. Be thankful, then, that you have not 
grown old, 
Worn out, diseased and full of pain. 
MoNASKA. To think 



^* I own no pigment dull enough. — You know 
What human life is ? — all a fight of soul 
To keep the body sweet, — a fight a bird 
Or beast knows nothing of. A babe when 

born 
Is dipped in water ; every following day 
Is dipped again. If not, ere long will come 
Disease and death, and, when a mortal dies, 
His fellows all thank heaven that they have 

hands 
To keep the fight up for him ; for, if not, 
Be he not burned or buried in a jiffy, 
The air of heaven may find the spirit sweet, 
But not the air of earth — pugh ! — well he left 

it! 
MoNASKA. You judge of men by their outsides. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 9I 

That all this glowing blood within these veins 

Should be spilled out, before my soul has drunK 

The pleasure that is in them. 
KooTHA. When thus drunk, 

The veins will be exhausted, have no stock 

To treat the sense with longer; and the soul, 

Intoxicated with the joys of earth. 

Will be too heavy weighed to rise above them/^ 
MoNASKA. Nay ; not of low desires I spoke. I 
meant 

That I had never tasted love. 
KooTHA. Then you 

Have never found it bitter. 
MoNASKA. Cynic ! 

KooTHA. Oh, no! 

Some of our people here so love a man 
They feast upon him. Who, pray, could know 

more 
Of his insides? They say— their sense is 

trained — 
That nothing ever tastes as much like man 
As what, say, has like tastes, — a boar, 
MoNASKA. Enough ! — 

35 MONASKA. But I 

KooTHA. The worst of prisoners is a soul 

Severed from its own realm by appetite 
That lets naught pass that pays no toll to greed. 
Mere soulless brutes are better than are men 
With souls that love but that which they can lust for. 



92 THE AZTEC GOD. 

KooTHA. One 

Must be what earth has made him. 
MoNASKA. Let me die 

Before I learn a lesson sad as that ! 
KooTHA. Wise prayer! Ay it is mercy lets us die 

Before our souls decay — makes life more sweet 

To those who have to live it with us here. 
MoNASKA. No, no! You do not understand — 

Waloon 

KooTHA. I understand the world. It frames her 
soul, 

And yours, and souls in this world fit their frames. 
MoNASKA. You deem my disposition too despotic 

To be appeased by service of her love? 

Yet not myself I think of, but of her. 
KooTHA. Think of her as she is then. 
MoNASKA. How is that? 

KooTHA. A woman. 

MoNASKA. What, pray, is a woman? 

KooTHA. What 

Is made to woo a man. 
MoNASKA. What man? 
KooTHA. What man? 

Why, any man. 
MoNASKA. You villain, to say that! 

KooTHA. Humph! I have seen the world, and 
tell you truth. 

You deem the truth is villainy? — it is — 

The truth about this world. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 9$ 
MoNASKA. You think Waloon 



KooTHA. Will mourn you? — Yes, a while; but 
woes like hers 
Are troubles which a kindly Providence 
Will always raise up some man who can cure. 

MoNASKA. Waloon — I must believe she knows 
this now — 
Has made a solemn vow, if aught should come 
To me, to serve as priestess in the temple. 

KooTHA. Oh yes; oh yes; with you to be her god. 

MoNASKA. Sad, lonely servitude I 

KooTHA. Oh, no. 

MoNASKA. With none 

To love ? 

KooTHA. But there are others there. 

MoNASKA. What for ? 

KooTHA. To represent the god. 

MoNASKA. You mean 

KooTHA. Oh, no !— 
No, not this week, nor month, not that, not that. 
But when the time comes — when this lonely soul 
Desires content, and cannot leave the place 
Without dishonoring herself and us 

MoNASKA. Your evil mood is master of your 
thought 

KooTHA. Say, makes my conscience conscious that 
no law 
Can legislate the devil out of life. 
You block a maiden of one lover 



94 THE AZTEC GOD. 

MoNASKA. Knave ! 

KooTHA. Nay, some would call him both a knave 
and brute — 
Who failed to make her seem less lonely. 

MoNASKA (angrily). The king 

Would not permit this. 

KOOTHA. No ? 

MoNASKA. He would ? 

KooTHA. You see — 

The king — he chiefly represents the god. 

MoNASKA. What ? — I have heard he loves her. — 
Can this be 
A plot of his to get her, will or nill ? 
You mean to say 

KoOTHA. I do not need to say it; 

I think a man might, if he had some sense, 
Put two and two together. — Times will come 
When they two will be two together. Humph! 
One ought to guess the rest. 

MoNASKA. And ought to swear 

To level every wall that can shut out 
The sun that brings to light man's every act — 
The only weapon that can ward oif ill 
From souls allured to wrong through secrecy. — 
And you — what cause had you to hint this to me ? 

KooTHA. You thought Waloon would suffer 

36 KoOTHA. Dishonored. 

MoNASKA. Why, you seem a priest? 



THE AZTEC GOD. 95 

MoNASKA. So she will 

A thousand deaths were better for her. 
KooTHA. Whose ?— 

(Insinuatingly. ) 
You mean the king's? 
MoNASKA {suddenly changing his manner). 

Are you a native here? 
KooTHA. Not I. 

MoNASKA. Of what tribe then? 

KooTHA. Sh — sh — of yours. 

MoNASKA. Mine? mine? 

KooTHA. I said it — captured years ago. 

MoNASKA. And here ?^® 
KooTHA. Enslaved. 

MoNASKA. You wish me? — 

KooTHA. You alone, 

Of all the captives we have ever taken, 
When tempted, have not let them drain your veins 
Of healthful soul-strength, to inject therein, 
In place of it, their foul sense-fevering virus. 
MoNASKA. And you would save me? 
KooTHA. Do you think a man 

Can save a god? — It is the god saves men. 
You see this point here? 

(Pointing to a sharp protuberance on one end 
of the musical instrument carried by 
MoNASKA. MoNASKA examines it.) 

KooTHA, I am what priests would be, did they believe 
In being what they seem, — a man yet not a man. 



96 THE AZTEC GOD. 

I have known a man 
Who had no weapon 

MoNASKA, Yes, I see the point! 

KooTHA. A time will come when you stand near 
the king. 
If then you choose to give a benediction, 
The people's eyes will all be looking downward; 
And if there be confusion, and some gate 
About the pyramid be open, then 
Quick feet might pass it, ere they could be tript. 

MoNASKA. When is it that I stand so near the 
king? 

KooTHA. Just when he bids you give this lyre to him. 

MoNASKA. And I will give it ! — What comes just 
before ? 

KooTHA. Our adoration. 

MoNASKA. What just after ? 

KooTHA. You 

Begin to mount the pyramid. Meanwhile, 
Keep dropping off you, one by one, your robes. 
The king takes first this lyre, and Haijo next 
Your head-dress ; then, the other priests the rest. 

MoNASKA. Till everything be taken from me ? 

KooTHA. Yes. 

MoNASKA. Before the people t — an indignity ! 

KooTHA {sarcastically). 

They will have done your spirit so much honor, 
It will be too much honored for this body. 

MoNASKA. You mean the body will be too dis- 
honored 



THE AZTEC GOD, 97 

For any spirit to remain in it. 
KooTHA. Oh, not dishonored ere the godship 
leaves. — 

Then what does flesh devoid of god deserve? 
MoNASKA. Damnation, if devoid of godship mean 

Devoid of spirit to defend the flesh. — 

And so they kill me? 
KooTHA. In the end they do. 

MoNASKA. They mutilate me first? 
KooTHA. That lasts not long.— 

You are to see Waloon now. 
MoNASKA. See Waloon? 

How cruel both to her and me ! 
KooTHA. Oh, then, 

If you wish not 

MoNASKA. Nay, but I do — and you — 

You are to watch us, as has been your wont? 
KooTHA. Why — ? 
MoNASKAo It will be my final word with her. — = 

Were you to be a god, what would you give 

To speak that word and not be overhead? 
KooTHA? Eternal benediction. 
MoNASKA So will I. 

Or god or spirit, here I pledge you it. 
KooTHA, I shall not overhear. 

Exit — Left — KooTH A . 
MoNASKA {^soliloquizing). One hope is left. 

I have the lyre — 
7 



qS the AZTEC GOD, 

{^Making motion of using lyre as a weapon?) 
Can give it to the king.^' 
{Looking toward the Left^ 
But ah, — she comes. I must not think of self, 
But of this better self. If any soul 
Had ever need yet to believe in God 
Through a belief in man, that soul is hers. 
Enter — Left — Waloon and Kootha, who bows to 

MONASKA. 

Exit — Left — Kootha. 
Waloon. Monaska. 
MoNASKA. Here I am, Waloon. 

Waloon. You know 

The truth ? 
Monaska. I do. Oh, love, but it is hard. 

You knew it all these days? 

^^ Though I may die, I need not leave Waloon 
To her worst enemy, — that spider-soul 
Bating his web of lust with my pure love, 
And, for his foul embrace, entrapping thus 
The vainly fluttering wings of her fair spirit. 

38 Monaska. A fool that I have been. But who could 

think 
Humanity could be so base? 
Waloon. Be what? 

Monaska. So base, so devilish. 

Waloon. Who has been this? when? 

Monaska. Who? when? — Why, everybody. — You 
must know? — 



THE AZTEC GOD. 99 

Waloon. I feared — 

MoNASKA. It was 

For this I deemed you jealous of me ? 

Waloon. Yes. 

MoNASKA. A fool that I have been.^® I, all my life, 
Have served a spirit larger than myself. 
These limbs but fit it on a single side, 
Their utmost only half what it would have. 
And now, athrill with spirit-arms that stretch 
Up toward the heavens and onward toward 

heaven's love, 
My balanced being had embraced in you 
That other side. We are not two, but one. 
And — think — to part two factors of one life 
Is murder — not of body but of spirit. 

Waloon. Monaska — what? — Monaska, are you 
mad? 

The king? — this Haijo? 

Waloon. No, what is it then? 

Monaska. They are to kill me ; and you had not 

heard ? 
Waloon. But you are god ! 
Monaska. What, what? — you say this? you? 

And you believe it right that I should die? 

Waloon {in surprise and reproach), 

Monaska ! 
Monaska. Have I no friends left? not one?— 

Not even you ? — you wish to kill me too ? 

Waloon. No, no, not that 

Monaska. I, all my life, Waloon, etc. 



100 THE AZTEC GOD. 

MoNASKA. Not yet, not quite. 
Waloon. But think — you are the god.'° 

MoNASKA. To hear you say so, I could think it 
too. 
Thank heaven, thank heaven! But if I leave 

you here, 

Waloon. I still will love you — serve you in the 

temple. 
Monaska. Nay — say not that! 
Waloon. I must though — if I love you. 

Monaska. You must? — and why? 
Waloon. Because their souls are cursed 

Who loved the god, and serve not in the temple. 
Monaska. Is that what they have taught you? 
Waloon. Yes. 

Monaska. A part 

Of that instruction which they call divine? 

(Waloon nods^ and Monaska talks aside.) 
I thought so! — and they say they make me god. 
No, no; they make me devil! — Would they 

could ! 
What happy hours in hell would heat the hate 
My heart could hurl at what they call divine I 

^ Monaska. Do you believe this? 
Waloon, I? — why should I not? 

Monaska. Have always heard it, eh? — and most 
of us 

Commune with reason through our memory ; 

And not the work of our own minds we heed, 



THE AZTEC GOD. lOI 

Waloon. What said you? 

MoNASKA, Said I? said I? — It was naught 

But practicing to be a god. You know 

A coming glory casts a glow before it. 

Those who shall be the lords of fowldom gobble 

A gobble at times before their gills are grown. 
Waloon. You seemed in anger. 
MoNASKA. So are gods at times. — 

They think of men. 
Waloon^ Of women too? 

MoNASKA {changing his tone). Oh yes; 

Of women : — they are said to be in bliss. 

Waloon, you love me? 
Waloon. Yes. 

MoNASKA. Will always love me? 

Waloon. I will. 
MoNASKA. Then if a devil come to you, 

In human shape, and say he represents me, 

Swear you will not believe him — though the 
king! 
Waloon {startled). 

What can you mean? 
MoNASKA. Believe him, I will damn you — 

Not only I — but all the gods there with me. 

But rote-repeated phrases framed by others.— 

Do you believe me then to be a god ? 
Waloon. You must be. 

MoNASKA. Your god, yours, Waloon ? 

Waloon. My god. 



102 THE AZTEC GOD. 

(Waloon draws back in fear. Monaska's tone 
changes.^ 
Waloon, are you afraid of me, Waloon? 
Waloon [hesitatingly). 

Why — no — 
MoNASKA. I have a last request to make. 

I have to die in public, — is that so? 

(Waloon bows in affirmation.) 
They strip and mutilate me first? 
Waloon. You mean 

When — when they tear your heart out? 
MoNASKA (in horro?^). 

Tear? — what, what? — 
While I am living, feeling, tear my heart out? 
Waloon. Oh, do not speak of it! It — let me 
rest. 

{Almost swooni?tg, and seating herself. ) 
Monaska. You faint! — Oh, horror! — and for 

me, Waloon? 
{Bending over her^ aitd talking huskily and rapidly.) 
We have but one brief moment more together, 

( Trying to rouse her, and succeeding. ) 
Wake! — there is one thing you must promise 

me. 
When I am gone — their ghastly deed been done — 
I wish you to recall me as I am, — 



^Monaska. Swear it. So your soul, 
As I depart this life, may draw mine > 



THE AZTEC GOD. IO3 

One fit for all things almost, save to die, 
Each factor, organ, limb of me complete, 
And, at this moment, hot against the fire 
Blazed through me by your love-enkindled eyes. 
No sinew but is trembling with the draft 
Of that delicious flame ; and yet none too 
Not strengthened by a power divine like that 
Propelling all creation, — I am god. 
Not man. Nay, nay! Remember me as god. 
You must not see that unveiled, writhing frame 
Weak, color-void, save where the death-blood 

dyes it. 
Waioon, you must not be there. I shall writhe 
More like a god to know you are not there. — 
But go you where we met first — in the woods — 
You know the place — to me the holiest place 
My life has ever known ! Waioon, go there. 
Oh, swear to me you will. — My soul will swear 
To meet you. 

Waloon. What ? 

MoNASKA. By all that makes me god, 

In form, perchance, in spirit certainly. — 
Will you, Waioon 1 

Waloon. I 

MoNASKA. Swear it." 

Waloon {lifting up her hand). I — 

MoNASKA. Thank heaven ! 

Off in the current of that sympathy 
Forever sweeping from my life to yours, 



I04 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Enter — Left — Kootha. 
KooTHA. Your time is up. 
MoNASKA. Farewell, Waloon. 

Waloon. Farewell." 

E7iter — Z(^— Haijo with two Attendants. 
MoNASKA (/(? Waloon). 

Things may turn brighter than you fear, Waloon. 
Waloon. Could they be darker? Oh, my god, 
my god! 
(She hows before Monaska, dingmg to his hand,) 
Kootha {to Haijo as he poifits to Waloon). 

Note how complete is her devotion, sire, 
Haijo (to Kootha, but at the same time motioning to 
Waloon). 
Remove her. 
{Pointing to Monaska and speaking to the Attend- 
ants.) 
Lead him forth. 
Monaska [to Waloon). Farewell. 

Waloon [to Monaska). Farewell. 



Away from ways where human wills outwit 
The wisdom that has made earth what it is, 
To where, in that true temple of the spirit, 
The winds are whispering what men know not of. 
And flower and leaf are trembling like the heart 
That feels the presence of the power divine. — 
There go I , darling — you ? 
Waloon. I too, etc. 



THE AZTEC GOD. IO5 

MoNASKA. Do not forget — we meet where only 

gods are. 
Waloon. Yes — there. 
MoNASKA. Have faith and hasten. 

Waloon. Yes. farewell. 

Exit — Left — Waloon. 
Haijo {to Monaska). 

Now comes the hour in which you triumph. 

The people at the temple wait for you 

To do you adoration. 
Monaska {lifting up his hands). 

With their hands ? 
Haijo {also lifting up his hands). 

To lift your spirit to the skies. 
Monaska. You think 

I crave that ? 
Haijo. Most men would. 

Monaska. A wingless hand 

Lifts only to a wingless height. A role 

Not past the common reach of common men 

Cannot incite uncommon aspiration.*^ 

CURTAIN. 

^' Oh, bitter, bitter, bitter word farewell, 

So bitter when the lips belie the heart 

That knows too well that life will not fare well. 

^'^ Lead me on. 
Exit —at the Z^/^— Monaska, led by the two Attendants. 



I06 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Haijo to (Kootha). 

How does he seem to take it? 
Kootha. Just like a god when made by man ; or, if 

You like not that, a man when made by a god. — 

Is there much difference between the two ? 
Haijo. And how Waloon ? 
Kootha. She thinks as all the world do ; 

So lives enough in hell to please a priest. 
Haijo. You villain 1 

Kootha. Yes, I always do your bidding. 

Haijo. I yet will rip your robes, and turn you 

off. 
Kootha. Oh, no, no ! Am too useful to you here. 
Haijo. Your usefulness is at an end. 
Kootha. Oh, no. 

Have learned too much of you. 
Haijo 

{who has moved toward the Left, as if to exit, 
turning about suddenly). 

What said you then ? 
Kootha. That I could prove so useful here to others. 
Haijo. Ungrateful cur ! 
Kootha. Nay, do not say ungrateful. — 

Nay. I am thankful for what you have taught 
me. 
Haijo. My curses on you ! — To the sacrifice ! 

(Haijo moves towards the Left Entrance.) 
Kootha {aside). 

The two things go together. And how kind, 

When one has curses loaded on him so. 

To let him load them on another ! 
Haijo {turning toward Kootha suddenly). 

What? 

Away. 



THE AZTEC GOD. lO/ 

s 

Exit — at the Left—'KooTUk. 

His insolence must end, or I 
Must find a way to put an end to him. 
Exit— at the Le/t—-iiAijo. 



Scene Second : — Same as Scene in Act Second, 
Enter — through the gateway^ — in a procession 
marching to the music of the orchestra^ Attend- 
ants, Priests, Priestesses, Maidens, Pages, 
Haijo, the King, Monaska sitting in his chariot, 
and apparently playing his lyre, and, near the 
chariot, Kootha. Warriors end the procession, 
and station themselves near the gates to guard them. 
They are not closed. The Attendants and Priests 
station themselves at the Right of stage facing Left ; 
the Priestesses and Maidens at Left of stage 
facing Right. The Pages in Front of pyramid. 
Monaska descends from chariot and stands beside 
'H.Ai'iO, facing the pyramid. Kootha stands nearer 
the gate. The King ascends the pyramid a few 
steps, and, standing in front of the rugs forming a 
seat near the base of pyrainid, faces the audience. 
The following is then chanted : 

Oh, not what life appears to be, 

Is what in life is true. 
Inveiled behind the forms we see 

Are things we cannot view. 
What but the spirit working through 
The guise meu wear to what they do 



I08 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Reveals the force that, foul or fair, 
Awakes and makes the nature there. 

The sunshine shows the worth of suns, 

The moisture, of the shower ; 
The stream, of rills from which it runs, 

The fragrance, of the flower ; 
And, oh, the spirit when it springs 
Above the reach of earthly things, 
As fall the limbs that feed the shrine, 
Reveals the life to be divine. 

(Haijo ascends the pyramid a few steps ^ and 
stands beside the King facing Monaska, 
who mounts a lower step and whom 
Haijo's hands can touch?) 

The King. Now once again, unveiled for mortal 
gaze, 
Immortal mystery and man have met. 
The heavens bend low to touch the earth, and 

earth 
Is lifting up its longing hands to heaven. 

Haijo {lifting both hattds). 

Oh, ye that dwell less ifi the earth and sky 
Than in the meditations of the mind, 
We thank thee that the power of old imposed 
On ministers of earth can downward call 

(Haijo here places both palms on Monaska's head.) 
Upon a form in fashion like their own 
The presence of the gods' own power above, 
Till in a human form it sits enthroned. 



THE AZTEC GOD. IO9 

{As he utters the last words, the King takes 
MoNASKA by the hand. Monaska mounts 
the pyramid between the King, who is at 
his right as he turns to face the People, 
and Haijo who is at his left. The momeiit 
Monaska stands on the step between the 
King and Haijo, both the latter and all 
the People kneel, while all chant the fol- 
lowing •) 

Haijo. All hail the heavenly sun, 

People. The heavenly sun ! 

Haijo. All hail the glory won, 

People. The glory won ! 

Haijo and People. 

All hail the sun that brings the light, 
All hail the rays that shower, 

And wake the barren wastes of night 
To germ and leaf and flower. 

Haijo. All hail the heavenly sun. 

People. The heavenly sun ! 

Haijo. All hail the glory won, 

People. The glory won ! 

Haijo and People. 

All hail the life behind the sun. 

All hail the gods that dwell 
Where men whose earthly race is run 

Are borne, and all is well. 

Haijo. All hail the heavenly sun, 



no THE AZTEC GOD. 

People. The heavenly sun 1 

Haijo. All hail the glory won, 

People. The glory won ! 

Haijo and People. 

All hail the form of him who dies, 

All hail the soul that wends 
Up through the skies, and onward hies. 
All hail the gods, our friends. 

{The stage grows darker^ indicating an approaching 

storm. ) 
King {rising.^ as do all the People). 

Now comes the deed that all the gods await, 
The final act of solemn joy that gives 
The life we prize to those that reign on high. 
But ere his lyre be given to the king, 
Let those appointed for the sacred task 
Be led here to conduct their holy charge 
On his most holy way. 

(Haijo moves ^ as if to descend the pyramid^ hut 
stops, and turns back upon hearing the 

voice of MONASKA.) 

MoNASKA {to King.) Your majesty ? — 

Sire, may I ask ? 

King. What would you ? 

MoNASKA. A request, 

If I may speak. 
Haijo {^o King). 

Sire, he needs nothing. 



THE AZTEC GOD, III 

MoNASKA (to King). 

Slight 
The last request of him who is your god? 
King {to Monaska). 

Say on. 
Monaska. I merely thought, sire, that my spirit, 
To be inspired the better toward the light, 
Should gaze upon yon rising sun; but here 
It cannot, 

{Pointing toward the gateway at the Rear.) 
King. Not ? 

Monaska {motioning toward the guards between the 
pyramid and the gateway^ 

Could these but step aside ! 

King {to an Officer at his Left). 

Yes, let the guards there stand aside, nor hide 
The sunlight from the sacrifice. 
Haijo {to King, making a gesture of dissent). 

But, sire 

Monaska {to Haijo). 

I seek this of the king. 
King {hesitating, and looking from Monaska to 
Haijo, the?t addressing the Officer again). 
As Haijo wishes.— 
You need not give the order. 
{To Haijo.) 

Now proceed. 
Let those appointed for the sacred task 
Be led here to conduct their holy charge 
On his most holy way. 



112 THE AZTEC GOD, 

(Haijo descends the steps of the pyramid. 

Those about separate to let him pass them. 

Exeunt — Left Third Entrance — Haijo, 

followed by procession of Priests. A 

sudden peal of thunder with lightning^ 

MoNASKA {to King, availing himself of the general 
alarm at the suddenness of the peal). 

You dare deny me ? 
The gods have joined me in my last request. 
Beware, lest by the charm yourselves invoke 
These gods, that you but half believe in, check. 
In ways that pride like yours deserves, the 

course 
And curse of most foul infidelity. 
King. Well, well, it matters little. 
(To Officer, and gesturing toward the gateway^ 

Officer, 
Give orders that the guard there stand aside. 

(Officer moves toward the gateway and ges- 
tures. The Guard move towardthe Right 
KooTHA takes a station between the pyramid 
and the gateway. King continues to 

MONASKA.) 

Now are you ready ? 
MoNASKA. If the man be naught, 

Let not the spirit that you deem divine 
Depart, ere it invoke the powers above 
To rest in endless benediction here. 



THE AZTEC GOD. II3 

King. This proves how wisely you were chosen 
god.— 

{To People.) 
Prepare, ye people, for a benediction 
Which he whom all men worship now vouchsafes. 
(People kneel^ and bend their heads. Monaska, 
lifting one hand, motions to the Guard near 
the gate that they too kneel. Kootha, by 
motions, seconds his wish, bidding them all 
kneel down, which thS)/ do, bending their 
heads forward, and casting down their 
eyes. They are in front of the gateway^ 
with their backs toward it^ 
Monaska {noticing that the King is still standing). 

I would include you too, sire. 
King. Me ? 

Monaska. You too — 

{The King kneels. While he is doing so, Monaska 
lifts both hands and says — aside.) 
Now pray I on, until the heavens all flash, 
Then trust in them to end it, pealing down 
Their own high benediction on myself. 

{To the People in a slow, loud manner.) 
This is — my — benediction — for the people. 

{Bright flash of lightning, followed by a loud 
peal of thunder. Monaska hurls the lyre 
down upon the head of the King, then flies 
past Kootha behind the Soldiers, and 
through the gateway backing at the Right ^ 
o 



114 THE AZTEC GOD, 

King. Help, help ! 

KooTHA {running toward King and motioning 
Guards to do the same). 
What is it ? 
King (to Officer, who is bending over him). 

He has murdered me, 
KooTHA. Oh, murder, murder ! 
{To the Guards.) 

Shut the gates. Let none 
Escape. • 

(Guards hasten and close the gates backing at the 

Right.) 
Officer. Where is he ? — Stop him. 
KooTHA {standing on a step of the pyramid at the Back 
Center and looking toward the Right), 

Ah! too late! 

Curtain. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 11$ 



ACT FIFTH. 

Scene : — Same as in Act First. The darkness of 

a7i approaching storm. 

Enter — -from the Left — Waloon. 

Waloon.*^ The voice of thunder? — Can it be that 

he 



^3 Waloon. Yes, yes, it is the place. No doubt of that. 
Yet, in the dark, is all so vague and wild. 
How the whole air is weighted with the gloom ! 
Even to draw it in, my lungs, o'ertaxed, 
Would rather choose not breathe than bear the 

burden. 
These clouds are curtained like a funeral pall, 
Fit funeral pall, round my dear dying hope. — 
My dying hope ? — Oh, selfish, cruel soul, 
To think of it when, even now, perchance. 
That dear, dear heart, so eager-sped by love. 
Whose each pulsation, like a paddle's beat 
Seemed furthering some canoe's o'erladen prow 
Where it should rest and empty at my feet ; — 
That dear, dear heart, so pliant to my wish 
That, at my lightest breath, the brightening 

smiles 
Would open round his lips in hues as fair 



Il6 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Would speak to me through that ? — No, not 

through that. 
Not he !~He loves me. — Yet he may have 

changed.** 
I almost had forgot he is a god. 
Though what would gods be for, if man were 

good? 
And if he be not good, what are they for, 
Except to punish him ? — and am I doom'd?— 
Why not? — Is not my spirit in rebellion? 
It may be not the god in him but man, 
The man they rightly killed, that tempted me 
To leave the temple and to wander here. 
And now the god, then prisoned in the man. 
May wreak his vengeance on me. 
{^Thunder?) 

Hark — again ! — 
And rain too! I must find a shelter. What? — 
i^Looking toward the Left. ) 



As rosebuds parted by the breeze of May ; 

That dear, dear heart, the germ of all he was— 

The sweetest outgrowth of the sweetest life 

This earth has ever molded into form ; 

To think that even now a heart like that, 

Its nerve-roots quivering in their agony, 

Is being torn out from the bleeding breast 

As if some foulest weed that could pollute 

A soil that, just to hold it — that alone — 

Is more than sacred ! Oh, how can the heavens 



THE AZTEC GOD. WJ 

Can they be soldiers? — Can I be pursued? 
Exit— at the Right— V^ai^ooh. 
Enter— from the Left—T^o Soldiers. 
( Thunder and lightning }j 
First Soldier {looking toward the Right). 

A woman, I am sure. 
Second Soldier. If so, not he. 
No noise ! — Were he to think himself pursued 
He might escape us. 
First Soldier. That could never be. 

The woods are wholly circled by us now ; 
And him we know to be inside. 
{Moving toward the Right Upper Entrance^ 
{Thunder and lightning^ 
Second Soldier {looking earnestly toward the Right 
Upper Entrance^ but moving toward the Left). 

This way ! 
I saw a form there coming ; and the price 
Of capturing by surprise is keeping silence. 



Be so unjust ? Far better not to think 

Than think but of that fearful, bleeding vision. 

Would, would that I could veil it out — but no ! 

^ Some tell us that the fairest forms on earth. 
Most full of mirth and softness and caress, 
Whose mildness tames life's wild, coquettish blood, 
Leave in the tomb their loveliness and charm. 
And go thence, fiends. — And he ? — no, no, not 
so!— 



Il8 THE AZTEC GOD. 

First Soldier. Ay, you are right. No wise men 

spring a trap ^ 

Till sure their prey is in it. We withdrav/. 

Exeunt — at the Left — Two Soldiers. 
{Thwider aitd lightning^ 
Enter — Right Upper Eiitrance — Monaska. 
MoNASKA {soUloquizi7ig), 

At last, the place ! I feared I should be lost, 

So many in pursuit, and everywhere. 

Before, behind, on every side of me. 

Who know the ground so well, and I so ill ! 

Strength speeds the feet, but knowledge aims the 

bow, 
And where the one but just begins the race, 
The arrows of the other cleave the goal. 
Who could have thought so many cross-roads 

here 
And short-cuts to a pathway well-nigh straight ? 
At last, I seem now to have dodged the foe ; 
And if I find Waloon — what then ? — I fear 
We might attempt escape in vain. — Perchance 
It may be best that she should not be here, 
To die disgraced if found with me — no, no; 

** What sanguine brain is mine ! How know I 

this? 
To most men no disgrace can loom like theirs 
Who dare do aught save by the grace of custom. 
Where earth's esteem is what all strive for first, 



THE AZTEC GOD, II9 

Did she but dream of life I plan for her, 
Disgrace from its foes would to her seem 
honor! "— 

( Thunder and light?nng. ) 
(MoNASKA looks toward the Right?) 
Who come? — more warriors? — No, — my soul — - 

she? — yes — 
Ye gods, if I have not deserved the doom 
Of deepest hell, for her sake, god me now. 
Enter— from the Right — Waloon. 
Waloon. Monaska! — Oh, ye angels, can it be? — - 
{Kneeling.) 
Nay, blast me not that these unworthy eyes 
Should have presumed to gaze where earth is 

blest 
With this transcendent vision. 
Monaska. Yes, Waloon, 

You see me. 
Waloon. You? — Oh, love, chastise me not. 
Monaska {aside). 

Nay, I will not chastise her with the truth. 

{To Waloon, taking her by the hand.) 
Rise up, Waloon, rise up, I merely love you. 

Her customs make them cowards to the call 
Of conscience ; and the foulest crime 
Seems not a curse, if it be only common, 
Waloon too — could I ever dare reveal 
To what departure from all common ways, 



I20 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Waloon. You love me? — what? — this poor weal? 
fainting flesh? 

{^She rises.) 
MoNASKA. Yes, it is this I love. — I thank you, 
friend, 
You had such faith, and came here. 
Waloon. Thank the gods 

That I have lived to do what pleased a god. 
MoNASKA. Waloon, do I fulfill your soul's ideal 
Of what a god should be ? 



To all that she deems holy, I had led her ? 
What right have I, more than these priests have 

here 
To slay me for the safety of their souls, — 
What right have I to shade her future life, 
Or slay her, as it may be, for my love? 
And were she now to come and find in me 
A murderer, where she hopes to find a god, 
A coward, driven in fright from ordeals 
Which she had prayed would prove him fit for 

heaven, — 
Oh, how might she abhor these treacherous arms, 
Thrown open to receive her ! how detest 
Lips that to keep her love must keep their lies ! 
What has my rashness wrought ? Is it so well 
For one man to resist what all men wish? — 
The customs that the centuries have crowned ? 
How many have dared all to thwart the world 
And only thwarted good the world could do 

them ! 



THE AZTEC GOD. 121 

{The stage begins to grow brighte?'.) 
Waloon. Ah, more, far more. 

MoNASKA. If I came back to live on earth with 
you- 



Waloon. Nay, hint not that. Earth would be too 
much heaven. 

MoNASKA. And if I were to tell you this, Waloon, 
That, far away from here, there lies a realm 
Where gods like me can live with maids like you, 
But that, to go there, you must rend yourself 
Forever from the land that is your home, 

I might have passed from earth upon a throne. 
Revered by all men, and beloved by her, — 
Her god ! — and shall I now become her fiend ? — 
Live on condemned by her, because I dared 
To fight against a world that all should serve ? 
Ah, if ray dying could have given one heart 
That comfort of the spirit which all crave, 
How could my soul have wrought a godlier deed ? 
We live our lives for use ; if men misuse us. 
Far better so than that we lose our use ! 
And yet, — what is our use ? — Oh, would some 

power 
Could tell us how to balance, in our lives, 
The rule of others and the rule of self ! 
How can we, when the two conflict, serve both ? 
And which one should we serve ? — which first ? — 

For me, 
Till spirit seem no more than matter is, 
I hold it that which rules me through the 

spirit. 



122 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Where dwell your friends and kindred, would you 
go? 
Waloon. Though you be god, you know not 
woman's heart, 
If you believe I would not. 
MoNASKA. Swear it then. 

Waloon. I swear 

MoNASKA. To leave this land and all 

you love here, 
And fly to live alone with me forever ? 
Waloon. And fly to live alone with you. 
MoNASKA. Forever ? 

Waloon. I do. — What moved? 

{^She points toivai^d the Left. Stage grows 
darker again., with a sound of distant 
thunder and slight flash of light7iing.) 
MoNASKA {looking toward the left). 

It seemed a flash from weapons. 
Waloon. The woods are full of warriors, as I 

think. 
MoNASKA {aside., as he moves from her and looks 
around him). 
I see — are all around each side of us. 
O heavens, our time has come! — Yet move they 

off. 
We have a moment more. 
{Pointing to the moss-covered bench., appare7itly hidden 
behind a tree near the Right Upper Entrance. ) 

Waloon, in here! 



THE AZTEC GOD. 1 23 

Waloon {^gazing around^ and apparently seeing the 
Soldiers, then seating herself on the bench^ 
where Monaska sits beside her), 
I know not what it means. 
Monaska. You never heard 

Of hosts that come with gods to visit earth ? 
Waloon, were I to tell you that the realm 
In which the gods dwell could be reached by you 
In one way only, — in the self-same way 
That severs in the temple soul from form 
In him your priests and people choose as god ? — 
Waloon. Then I would thank the force that severed 
me 
From all that could weigh down a soul so light 
That but for them it might soar up to 
heaven. 
Monaska, Swear you mean truly what you say, 

Waloon. 
Waloon {lifting her hand.) I swear it. 
Monaska {motioning her to drop her hand). 

Wait — could you return again 
And be a priestess in the temple there, 
As you have told me that you would become, 
With all the honor that a priestess has. 
And all the consciousness of deeds divine, 
And could you, as the years wore on, forget 

The love you once had borne this god 

Waloon. No, no, 

I never could forget that. 



124 THE AZTEC GOD. 

{Stage from here on keeps growing brighter^ 
MoNASKA. Hear me through. 

Your king is absolute. He could do all 
Your heart desires. What say you, should there 

come 
A time when he — he loves you now, Waloon — 
Should choose you for his queen. If this, Waloon, 
This exaltation over all the earth, 
Were your bright destiny, say, would you choose 
To die, die here alone with faith in one 
Whose only welcome for you is a blow ? — 

{Doubliiig and lifting his fist?) 
Would you choose this ? 
Waloon. I would. 

MoNASKA. In truth .> 

Waloon. I would. — 

{Half risings and looking toward the Left.) 
Who is that coming ? 
MoNASKA {looking the same way, then at her). 
Do not be afraid. 
Why should a soul with faith sublime as yours 
Fear aught ? — Your love alone, if nothing else. 
Could here create of me the god you think me. 
{Hurriedly aitd nervously, as he induces her to lie on 
the moss-covered bench^ 
These come to summon both of us to heaven. 
Here darling, rest your head upon this mound. 
Cast one look more at me, then let me veil 
These loving, earthly eyes from all of earth. 



THE AZTEC GOD. 12$ 

A lojk like this must never see the stroke 

That drives the soul-light out of them. — There, 

there, 
You are content, my darling, you are sure ? — 
Content to live with me in spirit only ? 
Waloon. I am. I am. 

MoNASKA. Farewell. — I mean farewell 

To earthly presence. 
{^Placing a branch or wreath over her eyes.) 
Now to angel hands 
I leave mv angel — nor a whit too soon. 
(Gazing ajixiously toward the Left?) 
Wapella (from behind the Left Second entrance), 

Monaska. 
Waloon (aside). 

Who is that ? 
Wapella. Monaska. 

Monaska (rising). What? 

I know that voice. 

(To Waloon.) 

Lie still, dear. I return. 
Enter — Left Second Entrance — Wapella. 
Wapella. Monaska. 
Monaska (moving to meet Wapella). 

What .?— Wapella ? 
Wapella. Yes, — with friends.— 

To save you. 
Monaska. How can this be ? How came you 
To seek me here \ 



126 THE AZTEC GOD. 

Enter— Left Second Entrance— K.OOTHA0 
{The stage is brilliantly illumined^ and warriors 

from every side.) 
Wapella. We tracked you. Weeks ago. 

When learning what would be your fate, I fled, 
I found our comrades, many still not slain. 
We all returned, and watched here in the woods. 
Then Kootha met us — vowed to do his best 
To save you, and this morning, when you flew, 
We watched, we dodged, we circled round your 

path, 
And now have trapped you. We shall all 
escape. 
(^In surprise, as they approach Waloon.) 
Waloon is with you? 
MoNASKA {taking Waloon by the hand). 

Yes. — Rise up, Waloon. 
Waloon {rising and gazing about in a dazed way). 

And who are these? 
MoNASKA. Kind friends to welcome us, 

And lead us to the realm of which I spoke. 
Waloon. The realm? — What realm? 
MoNASKA, What realm, Waloon? — My heaven. 

Curtain. 

End of the Drama. 



COLUMBUS. 



COLUMBUS. 



INTRODUCTION : PLACE AND TIME. 

This drama is intended to be a study, psychologic rather 
than historic, though not unhistoric, of the character of Co- 
lumbus, as manifested and developed in connection with his 
experiences before, during, and after his discovery of America. 
The general outline of the plot is as follows : 

ACT FIRST: In Portugal. Scene First: A public 
square. Talk about the plans of Columbus and about him- 
self. His entrance, his introduction to Felipa, and invitation 
to her house. Scene Second : Room in the house of Felipa. 
Reasons why Columbus hopes for success, the failure of his 
hopes, and his betrothal. Scene Third : Same room ten 
years later, rearranged as study of Columbus. Hounded by 
his creditors and wronged by the King, he loses Felipa by 
death and decides to leave Portugal. 

ACT SECOND: In Spain. Scene First: A Spanish 
camp at midnight. Columbus has enlisted as a soldier, is 
ridiculed for his schemes, has a talk with Beatrix, is present 
at an attempted assassination of the Queen, and thus comes to 
meet the King. Scene Second : The Council of Salamanca, 
called to confer with Columbus and discuss his projects, 
A summary of the popular objections urged against them. 
Scene Third : The exterior of the convent of La Rabida. 
To prevent Columbus from leaving her country, and to insure 
the success of his plans, the Queen pledges to him the Crown 
jewels of Castile. 



130 COLUMBUS, 

ACT THIRD: In Transit. Scene First: A street in 
Palos near its harbor. The difficulties and opposition en- 
countered by Columbus when preparing to sail, coming from 
his friends, as Beatrix, and from his enemies, who try even to 
destroy his boats. Scene Second : The deck of his ship at 
sea. The mutineers, their talk when alone and when with 
Columbus, and his dealing with it. The midnight discovery 
of land, and the morning approach to it. 

ACT FOURTH : In Triumph. Scene First : Room in 
a house in Spain. Columbus welcomed by Beatrix, and urged 
to secure benefits from the Crown ; and his description to her 
and to Diego of his voyage and the new land. Scene Second : 
Reception at the palace of Barcelona by the King, Queen, and 
populace. Scene Third : Dining hall in the house of Car- 
dinal Mendoza. The egg story. 

ACT FIFTH : In Chains. Scene First : Camp in His- 
paniola. Opposition to Columbus on the part of noblemen 
and imported criminals. Placed in chains by his enemies. 
Scene Second : House in Seville. Death of Columbus. 
Scene Third : A final tableau with hymn, representing a 
vision of the dying Columbus, portraying the progress and 
present condition of America. 



THE FOLLOWING CHARACTERS APPEAR ONLY 
IN THE FOLLOWING ACTS. 





In the First Act Only, 




James of Mallorca, 

Correo, 

Tailor, 

Grocer, 


Waiter, 
Felipa, 

Dona Correo, 
Woman. 




In the Second Act Only. 




Fernandez, 
Talavera, 
St. Angel, 


Attendant. 


Zalora, 
Perez, 
Other Monk 


Only after 


the Firsts in the Second and later Acts. 


King Ferdinand, 

Gutierrez, 

Sanchez, 




Arana, 
Beatrix, 
Queen Isabella, 



Escobar, 
Pintor, 



Mendoza. 
Only after the Second and in later 

Only in the Fifth Act. 



Acts. 



Velasquez, 
Indian, 



Roldan, 
Citizen. 



Young Diego, 
Fernando* 



What moves me seems beyond all conscious thought ^ 
Seems like the lure that leads the summer bird 
Southward when comes the fall. It is enough^ 
It is my destiny. I weigh it well. 
And find it rational ; yet why I first 

Conceived it as I do, I cannot tell. 

Columbus, IJI, i. 

Think not I lived my life 
To beg men for a badge to brag about I — 
Enough^ if I have been an influence. 

Idem. V. 2. 



CHARACTERS. 



(Christopher) Columbus. 
Diego (Columbus). 
Bartholomew (Columbus). 

FONSECA. 



Breviesca. 

King Ferdinand. 
Gutierrez. 

Sanchez. 

James of Mallorca. 

CORREO. 

Fernandez. 
Mendoza. 

Talavera. 

St. Angel. 

Zalora. 

Arana. 

Perez. 



The Discoverer of America. 

Brothers of Christopher Co- 
lumbus. 

Archdeacon of Seville, Trav- 
eler in Portugal, afterwards 
Bishop of Badajos, Palentia, 
and Burgos ; then Patriarch 
of the Indies. 

A Portuguese friend of Fon- 
seca, then later his Secretary, 
Treasurer, and Agent in 
Spain. 

Of Aragon, and, after Mar- 
riage, of Spain. 

Gentleman of the Spanish 
King's Bedchamber, and 
Officer. 

Officer, Inspector-General of 
Columbus' Expedition. 

President of the Portuguese 
Naval School. 

Husband of Sister of Felipa, 
Columbus' Wife. 

Physician and Scientist of Spain 

Archbishop of Toledo, Grand 
Cardinal of Spain. 

Bishop of Avila, Confessor to 
the Queen. 

Receiver of Ecclesiastical Rev- 
enues of Aragon. 

Bishops of Spain. 

A Monk, subsequently Prior of 
the Convent of La Rabida 
near Palos. 



133 



134 



CHARACTERS. 



Escobar. 

PiNTOR. 
ROLDAN. 

Velasquez. 

Young Diego. 

Fernando. 

Tailor. 

Grocer. 

Waiter. 

Moor. 

Other Monk. 

Attendant. 

Indian. 

Felipa (Perestrello). 

Beatrix (Enriquez). 



Queen Isabella. 



Dona Correo. 

Woman. 

Maid. 



( Sailors with Columbus, Settlers 
r in the New World. 

Subtreasurer in Hispaniola. 
Eldest Son of Columbus. 
Youngest Son of Columbus. 

In the First Act. 



In the Second Act. 

In the Fifth Act. 

Wife of Columbus, Mother of 

young Diego. 
Companion of Columbus after 

Felipa's death, Mother of 

Fernando Columbus. 
Of Castile and, after Marriage, 

of Spain. 
Sister of Felipa, wife of Correo, 
In the First Act. 
In First and other Acts. 



Citizens, Officers, Soldiers, Courtiers, Sailors, 
Settlers, Women, etc. 



COLUMBUS. 



ACT FIRST. 

Scene First. — A street or square in Lisbon^ Portu- 
gal. Backing at the Right , a wineshops in front of 
which are two tables each with four chairs about it. 
Backing at the Lefty a convent wall ending against a 
chapel^ the door of which faces the audience. En- 
trances at the Right Center through the door of the 
wineshop; at the Left Center through a curtain hang- 
ing in the doorway of chapel; and at the Right and 
Left Sides through streets. The curtain rising dis- 
closes FoNSECA ^;?^ James of y[.K\.\.o^Q,K seated at 
the Right. The following is chanted in the chapel. 

O Life divine, from thee there springs 

All good that germs and grows, 
Thy Light behind the sunlight brings 

The harvests to their close. 

O Life divine, thou art the source 

Of truth within the soul ; 
Thou art the guide through all the course 

That leads it to its goal. 

O Life divine, what soul succeeds 

In aught on earth but he 
Wlio moves as all desires and deeds 

Are lured and led by thee ! 

135 



136 COLUMBUS. 

Enter — Left Side — Breviesca, and sits at Left table. 
FoNSECA {to James). You came to see? 
James. That man Columbus. 

Fonseca. Him? 

A crank, — and worse, a creaking crank! 
James. Without 

Some crank to creak of it, men might forget 

The wheels of thought.* 
Breviesca {to self ). Must wait till church is out ; 

Then meet by accident — go home with her, 

And fish an invitation to her house — 

A. lovely girl, Felipa! — As I live — 
Enter — Left Side — Diego. 

That man I met when traveling in Spain! 

Is always looming up. I wonder what 

Should bring 

Diego (to Breviesca). Good-day to Senior Bre- 
viesca. 
Breviesca {rising). Good-day to you. 

* The wheels of thought were made to move them on. 
Fonseca. You place thought on the right track 
once, you find 

What moves it on is not v^hat moves it off. 

They differ. 
Breviesca {to himself). I must wait, etc. 

2 Breviesca. Are candid. 

Diego. Wish to be. For that I changed. 

God started man ; man's deviltry the priest. 



COLUMBUS. 137 

Diego {looking toward the chapel'). Your servant, 
SenioFo — So! — 
At your devotions that you told me of — 
Front door ones, too! — No wonder you deemed 

strange 
My studying for the priesthood! 
Breviesca. But you said 

That you had turned from it. 
Diego. Oh yes! Truth is 

That I too am in love — but love myself.* 
FoNSECA (to Breviesca, rising and going toward 

hi?n with James). Is this not Senior ? 

Breviesca {to Fonseca). Senior Breviesca? 
Fonseca. And I, Fonseca — Spaniard — met you 
once 
In Seville. You recall? — 
Breviesca. Archdeacon — yes. 

You honor me. 
Fonseca. You pleased me when we met. 

For one, I like the thing God started best. 
Breviesca. Like others, eh ? — yet like yourself. 
Diego. I do ; 

That is, we two do — God and I. 
Breviesca. And now 

They style you, ' ' Your Irreverence " ? 
Diego. I am reverent. 

Breviesca. A different point of view ! 
Diego, If looking down, 

You seem the one ; if looking up, the other. 



138 COLUMBUS. 

{^Introducing James.) 
Professor James — Mallorca — naval school. 
Breviesca {introducing Diego). 

And Senior Diego of {hesitating^. 

Diego. The world. 

Breviesca. Quite true ! 

Diego. A traveler, knowing little — would know 

more. 
James. A wish to my own heart! I came to 
meet 
The mariner Columbus here. 
Enter— Left Center — Felipa, Correo, and Dona 

Correo. 
Breviesca. So ? ( Then seeing Felipa.) Ah ! 
Diego (/^ James, as he looks at Felipa). 

A pretty point, too, for his exclamation. 
James {to Diego). Would you see more of it ? 

{^To Felipa.) Good-day. 

Felipa and Dona Correo. Good-day, 

Correo {to all). Good-day. 
James {introducing Diego). 

Allow me, Captain, Senior Diego, 

2 Waiter. Red or white ? 
James {to all). What say you ? 

Dona Correo. None for me, thanks. 

James {to Felipa). You ? 

Felipa. Nor me. 

James {to the others). The gentlemen, at least ? 

Correo. I will perhaps. 



COLUMBUS. 139 

A traveler like yourself. — 

(introducing to ladies) Seniora C'rreo, 
And Seniorita F'lipa Perestrello. 
Will sit ?— and Waiter ? 

Enter — Right Center — Waiter. 

Wine here.® 
Exit— Right Center — Waiter. 

{All seat themselves at the tables^ from left to 
rights in this order : first empty chair ^ 
then Diego, D. Correo, Correo, Felipa, 
James, Breviesca and Fonseca. James 
continues to Correo.) 

Was that man 
Columbus in the church ? 
Correo. Not met him. 

James. No ? — 

A sailor, drawing maps now for our school — 
Fonseca. Who should be kept to that and facts — 
not draw 
So much upon his fancy.* Put it thus : 
If what he says be right, the church is wrong. 

James. I thought it. {to other gentlemen.) You 
too ? — White, not so ? Its hue 
Will fit the sunny air, and make us think 
Of drinking in the sunshine ! 

4 James. You should hear 

His arguments. 



140 COLUMBUS. 

James. Oh, not so bad as that! — has not found out. 
FoNSECA. If what he says be wrong, his dupes will 
drown, {to Correo.) 

Not so? 
Correo. It is the first time yet that I 

Have heard of him. 
FoNSECA. You will hear soon enough. 

The surest proof we men are not all fools. 

Is in the way we bruit them when we find them. 
Diego. Ay, and the surest we are not all brutes. 

Is in the way our thinkers make us mind them. 
Enter — Right Center — Waiter with a bottle 
and wine-glasses which he sets before the 
gentlemen — They pay him. 
James. A friend of his, eh ? 
Diego. Yes. 

Correo. Have known him long ? — 

Can tell us of him ? 
Diego. Is from Genoa ; 

A mathematician, studied at Pavia. 

Since then, till now, for more than twenty years, 

A sailor and a soldier — in the scrubs 



FoNSECA. Say feel them — all their points 

Well dipped in pagan poison. 
James. Oh, not all ! 

FoNSECA. Enough to make aU deadly. 
James. Beg your pardon ; 



COLUMBUS. 141 

At Naples, Tunis, famous for his fights 
Against the infidel — last year, the man 
Who clampt his frailer bark against a huge 
Venetian galley, and when both took fire, 
Driven to the waters, holding but an oar. 
Swam in to Lisbon ; and that oar of his, 
All that he brought here, may yet prove to be 
The scepter-symbol of a mightier sway 
Than your King ever dreamed of. 

CoRREO. Ah ! — How so ? 

Felipa. Yes, yes ! 

Diego. His plan is now to sail around 

The world; and in the trail he leaves behind 
Loop all to Portugal. 

Felipa. Around the world? 

James. Oh, you should hear him talk! 

FoNSECA. No, no, should not — 

A mad dog to be muzzled! 

Diego (to Felipa). You should not — 

Unless you wish to think and feel, and thrill 
To feel, there is a larger world than ours. 

Breviesca. In one's imagination. 

Diego. Be it so. 



But I lack scent to follow up your trail. 
FoNSECA. You know a priest should save the world 

from lies ? 
James. Have no scent yet ! — am senseless ? 



142 COLUMBUS, 

Imagination is the soul of thought. — ^ 
Exit — Right Center — Waiter. 
Enter — Left C^;?/^^-- Columbus. 
Ah, here he comes to argue for himself. 

{Rising and extending hand to Columbus.) 
Good-day. 

^ Breviesca. Well, take the soul, but we will keep 
to sense. 

(FoNSECA nods at him approvingly^ 
DiEGO. Humph ! many a joke would better not be 
cracked. 

The kernel 

Breviesca. Is not entirely to your taste ? 
FoNSECA. "Well, well ! — Quite frank for strangers !- 
James. Come, come, come. 

Enthusiasm needs a margin. 
FONSECA. But 

We may not need enthusiasm. 
jAMES. So ? — 

And you say this ? — a priest ? 
Breviesca. And, pray, why not? 

James. Why not ? — Why, friend, enthusiasm is 

The essence of religion 

Diego. Valueless 

Without its uplift and its oversight. 

If these it lack, it is a lifeless corpse 

Not measured by its worth but want of it. 
{to James) 

Not true ? 
James. I think your training has been good. 
Diego. It came from him we speak of. 



COLUMBUS. 143 

Columbus {aside). What! you here? 

Diego {aside to Columbus). Yes, but no one knows. 

We two are brothers. Better so, perhaps. 
Columbus. I see — can help me more. 
James {rising and greeting Columbus). 

The Captain! Welcome. 

Felipa {to CORREO). How I wish 

That I had known him ! 
CORREO. You? 

Felipa. Why, any man {pointing to Diego) 

To kindle fire like that 

CoRREO. Must have enough 

To keep a maiden warm and cosy, eh ? — 
Think you that follows ? I have known of men 
Whose thought would flash like lightning, light- 
ing up 
Half heaven besides the whole of earth ; and yet 
A whirlwind, did you trust to its caress. 
Would never lead you in a madder dance. 
Diego. Not true of him we speak of. — One less 
mad 
Does not exist. 
FoNSECA. Oh, you seem bit by him ! 

James. Come, come, the church is wise, perhaps, 
to put 
Her brake on wheels that else might whirl us 

down, 
But how about those wheels when mounting up ? 
Enter — Left Center — CoLUMBUS. 
Diego. Ah, here he comes to argue for him- 
self, etc. 



144 COLUMBUS. 

{Introducing Columbus), 
Permit — Seniora Correo — Seniorita 
Felipa Perestrello — the Archdeacon 
Fonseca, Senior Breviesca — Captain 
Correo — sailor of experience. 

i^All bow to Columbus.) 
Columbus {to ladies and Correo). It gives me joy- 
to meet you. 
Correo. Shall we sit? 

{All sit from left to right in this order: Columbus, 
Diego, Dona Correo, Correo, Felipa, 
James, Breviesca, and Fonseca.) 
James. You come here every day, I take it? 
Columbus. Almost. 

James. Are making up for time you lost at sea? 
Columbus. Yes, making up and mounting up. I like 

The uplift of the services. 
James {to Fonseca). There, there, 

Archdeacon, one point scored against yourself! 
Dull not the blade that carves at your own feast. 

{to Columbus in explanation.^ 
Oh, nothing serious! — an argument 
About good churchmen, and enthusiasts. 
Columbus. I see — and me. Yet men were told 
to preach 

® Columbus. So ? — How ? 

Diego {to Breviesca), No, no ; 

The world has had too many men like you. 



COLUMBUS. 145 

The truth to all the world. 

{to FONSECA.) 

You think it done? 

No, no; I am no mere enthusiast. 
Breviesca. And yet would sail across the un- 
known sea. 
Columbus. I would. 

Breviesca. But that 

Columbus. I have good reasons for. 

Fonseca. And where, pray, do you find them ? 
Columbus. Everywhere — 

Without a single fact against them. 
Breviesca. Ha, 

Without a single fact ! 
Columbus. Well, name one, then. 

Breviesca. Enough for me, if one could cross the 
sea. 

We should have found it out. 
Columbus. So 1 ** — There are lands 

Men have not known. 
Fonseca. And that would make you brave 

The blazing waves, and have your ship burned up ? 
Columbus. Ten years ago, the waters just beyond 

Cape Bojador were said to burn thus ; now 



Fonseca. And well for its own good ! If lands 
were there, 
The Lord would let us know it. 
Columbus. There are lands, etc. 



146 COLUMBUS. 

Men sail them, far as Cape de Vere. 
Felipa. Is true. 

Columbus. And they return with branches, 
leaves and flowers 

That float from further west ; and you have read 

The ancients? 
Breviesca. Yes, about Atlantis, yes; 

But that was lost. — Yet easily found, you think. 

I grant it — found by sinking. 
FoNSECA. Ha, well said! 

Columbus. Oh, there are other tales! Late trav- 
elers too. 

Like Marco Polo and John Mandeville 

FoNSECA. Now, pardon me; but stick, man, to 
your text. 

It was of facts that you began to speak 

Columbus. And that which gives them value. 
Breviesca. Fancies, eh? 

Columbus. Not fact-full only, but a mind that you 

Deem fanciful, is needed, would a man 

Put this and that together, and build up 

The only structure that can make his facts 

Worth knowing. 

' You have some sense. 
CoRREO {aside to James). The Prince believes in him ? 
James. If not in him, at least in enterprise. 
Columbus {to James). Is just the meeting I had 
prayed to have. 

Too good in you to further it ! — will come. 



COLUMBUS, 147 

James {rising). True as gospel that ! But now 
I must be going, (to Columbus.) 

You will come with me? — 
Another map- — I would explain. Besides, 
Prince Henry will be there to-day. 
{^All rise). 
Breviesca {to Columbus). And he 

Would let you sail your ship up to the moon, 
Were he not in it. 
FoNSECA {to Breviesca). Good ! I like you, man.' 
CoRREO {to Columbus). And we shall see you soon 

at our home too ? 
Breviesca {aside). At their home — what? that 

madman, and not me ? 
Columbus {to Correo). I keep quite busy and 

have little time — ^ 
Felipa {to Columbus). But we have maps my 
father made ; and these 
You might find helpful. 
Columbus {to Felipa). Thank you. I will come. ^ 
Curtain. 



8 Felipa and Dona Correo. Good-day. 

Columbus and] am.es exchange bows with all.) 

Exeunt— 'Left— Coujw&iss. and James. 
Correo {to Felipa and Dona Correo), But we 
too must be going. 



148 COLUMBUS. 

They bow to those that are left on stage. Exeunt 
—Right— Co^ViEO, Felipa, and Dona Cor- 
REO, followed by FONSECA. 
Diego {to Breviesca). Ah, Senior Breviesca, even 
here 
Enthusiasm has been king to-day ; — 
Within a single hour thrown wide apart 
The palace bars, and parlor doors that guard 
The prettiest girl in Portugal. 
Breviesca. Oh, yes ! 

But wait you till the end come. 
Diego. In the end 

As the beginning, nothing thrives but spirits 
If trusted, it survives too, every time. 

A prince 

Breviesca. Is mortal— 
Diego. Is a lord of earth ; 

And on the earth he sometimes has the power 
To make a man immortal. 
Breviesca. Humph ! How strange 

You like that egotist— insufferable ! 
Diego. Why, no. The insufferable is you — 
I mean to him. He dreams of destiny, 
His whole soul in his work. That soul speaks 

out 
And like a sovereign. Souls are sovereign always, 
Breviesca. One's destiny, you think, is made by 

talk? 
Diego. One's destiny was never yet fulfilled 
By one whose coward conscience dared not give 
Expression to the spirit that inspired it. 
Exeunt^Right—E-REvmscA and Diego. 



COLUMBUS, 149 

Scene Second. — Parlor in the house of Dona Cor- 
REO and Felipa at Lisbon. A deaf elderly Chape- 
ron and Fe L I p A J-// working in the rear. Entrances 
at Right and Left^ 



^ Enter — Right — DONA Correo in outdoor dress as 

in last Act. 
Felipa. I feared that we should not be back. 
Our Captain 

Columbus will be here to-day. They say 

No doubt that he will get the ships. 
D. Correo. I doubt it. 

Felipa. Prince Henry promised him 

D. Correo. The Prince is ill. 

Yet, could I, I would like to stay with you. 

Give my excuses, please — ay, ay, and yours.— 

Breviesca too is coming. 
Felipa. That man, humph ! 

D. Correo. We all accept the suit. 
Felipa. Except the one 

That should be suited. 
D. Correo, Whom we all so trust, 

We trust her wisdom also. 

{Kissing Felipa.) 

With the Captain 

Be not too cordial. 
Felipa. Not too cordial ? 

D. Correo. No. 

Cordialities that make the backward friends 

But tempt the forward to presumption. Force, 

Alive to clear its own approaches, flouts 

A welcome meant for weakness. 



150 COLUMBUS. 

Enter — Right — Columbus carrying a roll of maps. 
(Felipa looks toward her Chaperon?) 
How fortunate my Chaperon is deaf! 
{to Columbus) Good-day to you. 
Columbus. Good-day: was good enough 

For me before you called it so. 
Felipa. With all 

Your disappointments? — It is true! Prince 

Henry 

Columbus. Has promised all I wish. I shall 

succeed. 
{They sit together on sofa, while Columbus hands 
her the maps.) 



Felipa. He is forward ? 

D. CoRREO. A civil man enough ! But then they 

say 

Felipa. The one that everybody's bid can bind 

Is everybody's bondsman. 
D. CoRREO. But I know 

The neighbors 

Felipa. And I know myself. The wise 

Make self the mistress of their choice, I think. 
D. Correo. Now, now, fair play ! Fair play in 
argument, 

Will catch our thoughts before it throws them 
back. 

They call him flighty. 
Felipa. So are birds — and so 

Are — angels 

D. Correo. What ? 



COLUMBUS. 151 

Felipa. Thank God! 

Columbus. Ay, ay! Oh, I have sailed in nights, 
Dark nights, and prayed to heaven for one small 

star 
To guide me. Now it sends the Prince and you. 

Felipa {unrolling the maps and looking at one. ) 
You do me too much honor. 

Columbus. Could I? Nay; 

A soul that summons all that does one's best 
To do still better, sits upon a throne 
Than which none higher is conceivable. 

Felipa. I was not conscious 



Felipa. And every kind of life 

Above the common. 
D. CoRREO. Why, my girl ! 

One might suppose 

{Looking toward window at Rig hi ^ 

But see I He comes. I go. 
Be on your guard and think. Good-bye. 
{Kissing her .') 
Exit — Left — Dona Correo. 
Felipa {to herself). And think ? — 

I need that caution ? — when this beaker all 

{Placing her hand on her heart.) 
Is brimming to its overflow ? — And think ? — 
When every thought is radiant with his form 
Like surging sea- waves glancing back the sun ? — 

Enter — Right — CoLUMBUS carrying a roll of maps. 



152 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. Nay, nor is a child 

Of aught in her of movement or of form, 

That, fitting sweet ideals of loveliness, 

Makes fancied grace and beauty visible. 
Felipa {looking down at the map). And yet, I had 

not thought my father's maps 

Columbus. Ay, they confirm twice over all my 
plan — 

Not they alone, but your directions with them. 
Felipa. Mine.^ (Sitting with one hand resting on 

the map.) 
Columbus. Yes, your fingers pointing out the course. 

It all is there, just there beneath your hand. 

A sailor steers the way his compass points. 
Felipa. (Looking down at her hand on the map). 

Is that your compass ? 
Columbus. It might compass me — 

I mean my soul. 
Felipa. That little hand ? Oh, what 

A little soul ! 
Columbus. Do souls have size t One might 

Be universed in this ; yet not contained 
(Pointing to her hand.) 

In all the universe outside of it. 
Felipa. To put your soul thus in another's hand, — 

Would that be wise ? 
Columbus. Why not ? — the hand that serves 

The soul one loves may serve but selfishly, 

And yet serve best the one who trusts to it. 
Felipa. But should it fetter him ? — 



COLUMBUS. 153 

Columbus. Then would he thrill 

In every atom of his frame to feel 

Its fingers' throb and pressure. 
Felipa. Would not bound 

Away? 
Columbus. Away and up, but always back again, 

Like grains of sand in earthquakes. 
Felipa. Foolish man ! 

Columbus. Why, only God is wholly wise ; and I 

Am but a man — so never quite so manly 

As when — why, say — made foolish. 
Felipa {rising, as does also Columbus). 

Some one comes. 
Enter — Right — a Servant, bringing a note, 
Felipa. A note for me — ^from whom ? — 
{Opening and reading the note.) 

Exit — Right — Servant. 

Can this be true ? 
Bad news for us ! Oh very, very bad ! — 
The Prince is dead. 
Columbus. Prince Henry 1 What ? — No, no ! 
Felipa. It must be so. You see who sent it — look. 

(Handing the note to Columbus, who reads it.) 
Columbus. Impossible ! Heaven cannot be malL 
cious. 
What ? build so high a structure for my hope, 
Then knock the prop from under 1 All, all gone ? 
Felipa. There may be others. 
Columbus. May be ? — There are none. 



154 COLUMBUS. 

Felipa. But you have me still. 

Columbus. That is it. We must 

Forget all this — at least for years and years. — 

Oh, I know what it means! — have seen years like 
them. 
Felipa. Forget all this? 
Columbus. You do not understand. 

Prince Henry was my patron. Backed by him, 

Success was possible; I felt I trod 

An equal plane with others of your suitors. 

I now am worse off than a beggar. 
Felipa. No! 

You have your pencil — still can draw 

Columbus. Yet not 

The outlines I had hoped — of that new land, 

And you, its princess. No; there looms a face 

With more care-lines upon its wrinkled brow 

Than e'er I blacked a map with. 
Felipa. There are ships 

That still need captains. 
Columbus. Could one see their sails 

Like arms, white-surpliced, praying heaven for 
wind, 

'" Felipa. But you can wait — you are so strong ! — 

can wait 

Columbus. I can — but you — when lit by hope, 
rebuffs 
Are merely clouds aglow where dawn brings light 
But when no ray of hope is visible, 
The dark seems full damnation. 



COLUMBUS. 155 

Yet keep his prow still turned away from that 
Which he had vowed to heaven that he would 
seek ? " 

Felipa. Why 

Columbus. No, deny it not. I know it, feel it„ 
Your mother, sister, brother — yes, I grant 
They tolerate me ; but when patronless 
And penniless, it were a different tale. 

Felipa. Nay, nay; that cannot be! But they 
with me 
Will feel how noble is a man like you 

Columbus. A pauper and fanatic 

Felipa. No, a man 

Who, all alone, can stand with but one friend, 
His own brave soul, and trample underfoot 
A hissing world that, coiling like a snake, 
Would clutch him to its clod and hold him there. 

Columbus. Too much! To-day you think it, but 
to-morrow — 
Next year — in ten years — - — No, I have no right 
To put you to the test. No, let me go — 
Farewell. 



Felipa. You say this?— 

I thought 

Columbus. Oh, I ! — yes, I can wait forever. 
The light is in me. But could you see through 
These forms that cloak it, worse than worst of rags. 
Discourtesy, suspicion, and contempt 
Of those who know Columbus as the fool ? 



156 COLUMBUS. 

Felipa. Will you fare quite as well without me? 
Columbus. Felipa, nay, it cannot be. 
Felipa. You think 

A woman's heart, if tested through long years, 
With burdening love would break? You think it 

kinder 
To break it at the start? 
Enter — Right — Breviesca shown in by a Servant. 
Columbus {not observing Breviesca). Felipa, no — 
A faith like yours — my God, what shall I do? 
I would not harm you, yet have done the harm. 
Breviesca (sarcastically to the two). Ah, so! — I 

see I come too late — 
Felipa {aside, anxiously to Columbus). Except 

For one thing! 
Columbus {to Breviesca). Yes — we are betrothed. 
Exit, with sarcastic bow — Right — Breviesca. 
Exeunt— Left — Felipa and Columbus. 



Scene Third. — Working room in the house o/Colvm- 
bus. Maps and charts, hanging on the walls, and 



" Woman. Is he at home ? 
Maid. Not now. 

Woman. What seems he doing? 

Maid. Oh, just the same as ever ! 
Woman. Nothing, eh ? 

( To the other Women, who have remained near the door.] 



COLUMBUS, 157 

lying on a large table at Back Center ; also books ^ 
instruments for navigation^ and implements for meas- 
uring and drawing. Window at Right. En- 
trances at Right Side Rear and Left Side. 
The curtain rises disclosing a Maid and Women, 
the latter are handling charts and implements 
on the table.) " 
Maid. You really should not touch them. 
Woman. No? Why not? 

Maid. He would not like it. 
Woman. Oh, of course not! but 

He need not know it; need he? — 
{^Pointing to a chart. ) 

What a blotch! 
Maid. A chart, you know. 

Woman. A chart? — A chart of what? 

I never saw a chart like that — looks like 
A crazy quilt. And so he wastes his time 
On things like these ? — Felipa dying too I '^ 
( Taking up a sharp instrument. ) 



Come in. {to Maid) 

We thought that we should like to see etc. 

'2 No wonder ! — Think of it !— Ten mortal years 
Of this, and no one knows what more. At night, 
I would not dare to stay alone with him, 
Would you ? — say, would you ? 

Maid. Why ! I— no— he never 



158 COLUMBUS. 

Not safe in hands like his! 

{^Knocking at the door at the Right, ) 

Hark! What is that? 
Can it be he? Say, you can let us out 

{^Starting for Left.) 
The other door, not so? 
Maid. No need of that! 

Is no one but the tailor. 
Woman. Sure of it? 

{Crossing room and looking out window at Right?) ^^ 
{Opening door at Right and leaving it open?) 
Enter — Right— Tailor, 
Maid (to Tailor). Is out. 

Tailor. Oh, yes, I know — is always out — 

Out of his head at least. Were he but out 
My clothes, it would be better. — Left no word ? 



Woman. Of course not. You would be afraid,, 
of course. 
I had a cousin once who went insane, 
And all his family had to play insane 
To keep him company. The sport was royal 
Till, sure that he was royal and they slaves, 
He ordered off their heads. 

Maid. And then ? 

Woman. And then 

They left off playing, and made war on him ; 
And so dethroned him. They should do so here ; 
The sooner, too, the better ! Look at this : 



COLUMBUS. 159 

Maid. He bade me say that he expects the 

king 

Tailor. If all the kings that are expected came, 

Few would be left for subjects." 
Maid. He expects 

Enter — Right Side — suddenly^ the Grocer. 

Grocer. Tell him his expectations are too old. 
Fresh epectations, like fresh eggs, may hatch. 
Not so with stale ones, though, however white. 
Woman {turning from window at Right^ where she 
has been looking out, and gazing at the Grocer) . 
The grocer, eh? 

{^Speaking to the other women. ^ 
And all the family 
Are coming — and the Captain too. I saw them. — 
Will be a scene here. I prefer the back- 
ground. 



^3 Maid. Comes every day. 

Woman. What for ? 

Maid. To bid us think 

Of Adam's fall that made men civilized, 
Wear clothes, and bear the curse of paying for 
them. 

'* I will strip 
And cage his bareness for a jail-show. Ugh ! 
Maid. But, really, he is honest. He expects 



l6o COLUMBUS, 

Exit— Left— V^OMA-i^, followed by the other Women/* 
Grocer {to Maid, and holding a paper toward herY 

I cannot fill this order. 
Maid. But you must. 

His wife is needing it. 
Grocer. But I myself 

Cannot afford a wife 

Tailor. When keeping his. 

Enter — Right — Dona Correo and Correo pushing 
Felipa in a chair upon wheels. 

Maid {to Grocer). 

His wife is ill. You would not let her die? 
Grocer. Not I, but he; and there are other 

shops 

Maid. But we have tried them all. 

Grocer, Then try the jail 

They feed men there — or let him sell — 
Dona Correo {bowing to Grocer). You say ? 
Grocer {pointing toward charts and implements on 
table). He ought to sell these things and pay 
us off. 

" Tailor {to Grocer). 

Suppose we club together — ay, let fly 

Our blows at him together — down him sooner! 

*® An honest man would sell these traps ; not let 
His creditors go begging. 
Grocer. Ay, or come so. 



COLUMBUS, l6l 

Dona Correo. Not paid you yet ? Oh, well, you 

may be right ! 
Felipa {to D. Correo). They may be right ? 

Why, this would ruin him. 
Dona Correo (to Felipa). Not outside things that 
men can take away 
Bring ruin, but the things that stay within, 
Which would they could take ! 

{To Grocer and Tailor.) 

He himself is coming. 
Enter — Right— Co lumbus. 
Columbus (to Grocer and Tailor). You seek 

for me ? 
Tailor {holding his bill toward Columbus). I 

brought your bill. 
Grocer. And I. 

Tailor. We say an honest man 

Columbus {inotioning toward Felipa). But not, 
please, now. 
My wife is ill. 
Tailor {pointing toward the table). We say — your 

sister too — ^® 
Columbus. My brothers will be here to-day. 

{appealing to FelipA.) 
You think it too. 

{to Columbus.) You see it in her face. 
Tailor {half aside). Oh, he sees nothing ! Give 
one's brain a whack. 
It flies from earth to stars — but all in here. 



1 62 COLUMBUS. 

Tailor. And they? 

Columbus. Will bring me proofs of favor at the 

court. 
Tailor. If so? 
Columbus. Why, they will bring me what will pay 

A score of times and more your paltry bills. 
Grocer {to Tailor). What say you ? Shall we 
wait? Fact is, one finds 
It hard to break old habits. — Shall we, eh? 
(Tailor bows in acquiescence. Grocer continues to 
Columbus.) 
But see we get what balances our claim, 



{pointing to his head.) 
Columbus {referring to implements on table). 

These are the tools I work with— all of them. 
Grocer. Humph, they work poorly. Better give 
them up ! 

Columbus. The king 

Tailor. For ten years we have heard of him. 
Columbus. Your bill is only three months old. 
Tailor. Yes ; this one. 

Columbus. The present king has not been on the 
throne. 

But 

Grocer. All kings are the same to us — as you 
Will find 

Columbus. You need but wait 

Tailor. Have learned that lesson. 

" Felipa. But yet the king took interest in his charts, 



COLUMBUS. 163 

Or we shall weigh these things against them yet, 
{^Pointing to the table. ^ 

And sell them too by weight. 
Exeunt — Right Side — Grocer and Tailor. 
Columbus. No doubt they will. 

Too often in the judgments of this world 

Worth yields to weight. 
Dona Correo. A scandal and disgrace — 

A scene like this in my own sister's house! 

Felipa. Why, sister, when the king 

Dona Correo. Oh, dear, you know 

That tale is fiction, like the most things here." 
Felipa. Oh sister ! 

And sent for them. 

Dona Correo. Ay, ay, and found out so — 
Quite likely — that he cannot draw at all — 
Except from his own fancy. W ho wants that ? 
A visionary man produces visions ; 
And in the world that is, men want what is. 

Columbus. Why, madam, I am accurate. 

Dona Correo. Perhaps. 

Who knows it though ? Yourself ? If one besides, 
He too has made your own discoveries. 
And if no mortal knows it, all will judge 
By what they hear. What do they hear of you ? 

Correo. Humph, I can tell. 
{to Columbus.) 

Forgive me ; it is time 
You knew the truth. I thought, perhaps, to lease 
A ship that you could sail, — make money by, 
But 



164 COLUMBUS, 

Columbus (aside to Correo). Cruel, talking thus 
to her! 

(to Felipa.) 
The other room will be far better, dear, 
Than this. And they? — they but exaggerate. 
They hurt my feelings? Oh, why, why, why, why, 
You never saw a fisher catch a fish 
Whose hook would not get tangled in the line. 
Just wait, and see me get the better of them. 
You trust in me. There. 

(Gesturing to Maid to wheel Felipa.) 

I am coming soon. 

Exeunt — Left — Maid wheeling Felipa in her chair. 



Dona Correo. Been too long from practice? 
Correo. No, no ; worse ! 

Dona Correo. Is but an idler, as they think ? 
Correo. Worse yet — 

One who should not be trusted, sure to do 

The wrong thing for the right. 
Columbus. And you say that ? 

Correo. Not I, but those that give you reputation. 
Columbus. Am I to blame ? 
Correo. Who else is, pray ? They say 

That you would sail but heaven alone knows 
where. 

And I confess, I half believe you would. 
Felipa. Oh, brother ! etc. 

•* Columbus. I think that you forget. How many men 



COLUMBUS. 165 

Dona Correo {to Correo). Yes, yes. The time 
has come to tell him truth. 

( To Columbus) 

You think us cruel. What are you, yourself? 
{Pointing toward the Left?) 

See what ten years of this have made of her? 

I come, and find her wanting everything — 

Food, physic — nearly dying at your hands. 
Columbus. Do not say that. 
Dona Correo. Humph! It is time I did. 

Columbus. She still believes in me. 
Dona Correo. As infidels 

In their Mohammed, and are cursed for it." 
Knocking at the Eighty Columbus opens the door. 



Of humble, foreign birth demand and get 

A summons to an audience with the king ? 

Say that of such importance that the king, 

To weigh it, calls his wisest counselors ? 

Who argue it for days, with some, at least, 

That side with him whom you think stands 
alone ? 
Dona Correo. How many side with him ? 
Columbus. Enough to make 

The king request his charts — the work of years 

That you think wasted. 
Dona Correo. That was months ago ; 

And nothing followed. 
Columbus. There is too much life 

In truth of any sort, when sown, to doubt 



1 66 COLUMBUS. 

Enter — Right — Diego and Bartholomew. 
Columbus. My brothers, welcome ! 
Diego {to Columbus). 

So to you. 
{to Dona Correo and Correo.) 

And you. 
Bartholomew. And all. 

{All greet each other ^ 
Columbus {to Diego). You bring me news? 
Diego. Ay, by and by. 

{Glancing at Dona C. and Correo.) 
Columbus {to Dona C. and Correo). You will ex- 
cuse us ."* 
Dona Correo. We will leave. 

Exeunt — Left — Dona C. d^;?^ Correo.) 
Columbus {to Diego). This news? 

Diego {sadly). My brother, can you bear it? 
Columbus. I have borne 

With much. 
Diego. Yes, you have been misunderstood, 

Misjudged, maligned; but all were less than this. 



Its growing. I have made a good beginning. 
Dona Correo. A very small one. 
Columbus. So a seed is too, 

Whose growth is great. When one awaits the 
dawn, 

A flush is better than a flash, which oft 

But bodes a rush-light. 



COLUMBUS. i6y 

Columbus. How so ? 

Bartholomew. The king 

Columbus. He has not sent the money ? 

Bartholomew. The money ? 

Columbus. Yes, his agent promised it. 

Bartholomew. We had not thought you cared so 
much for that. 

Columbus. Not I, but these — my wife, my family. 
The king sent here requesting all details. 
It took me weeks to draft them, had to turn 
My methods upside down and inside out, 
And mass and multiply and magnify, \ 
Till truth was large enough for all to see it. 
Meantime, what gaze had I to fix upon 
My earnings ? They all fled, and now 

Diego. I see. 

No watch-dog keeps a creditor at bay 
Like well-housed earnings. — But we heard no 

talk 
Of pay. 

Columbus. When it was clearly promised ? — 
what?^' 

Enter — Right — Diego and Bartholomew, to whom Colum- 
bus now turns. 

Ah, they come at last ! 

My brothers, welcome ! etc. 

^® Then I, who trusted in the royal word 
And gave it currency, am made for this 
A charlatan who trades upon a cheat ? 



1 68 COLUMBUS. 

Diego. And worse. He holds your charts. 
Columbus. He keeps them? — Why — 

With truth, the longer kept, the longer thought of; 

And thinking feeds conviction. On my soul, 

The king will let me sail yet. You shall see. 
Bartholomew. Oh no, not you! 
Columbus. Not me, not me? — and why? 

Diego. My brother, all your draughts, your work 
for years 

Rest like a charter in another's hands. 

That other is the pilot of a ship 

Now sailing west ; and his head is decreed 

To wear the wreath for what your own conceived. 
Columbus. Impossible. 
Diego. I tell the truth. 

Columbus. His name? 

Diego. A secret — but no cowardly soul like his 

Will ever cross the sea. 
Columbus. I could prefer 

He should, than by a failure earn my scheme 

Discredit. 
Diego. Which he surely will. 
Columbus. Too true ! '•' 

What reasons could they have ? 
Diego. Enough of them 

In such a world! — You, you have genius, brains; 

2° Diego. Oh, curse the king ! 

Columbus. But could you have conceived 



COLUMBUS. 169 

And those without them must get even with 

you, 
If not by higher then by lower means. 
You are original and they derived; 
And thought full-centered in itself, owns not 
A parentage that puts another first. 
And you are foreign, they are Portuguese. 
Columbus. But such dishonor in a king! 
Diego. Why not? 

A king is human; place is relative; 
Down honor, and you boost dishonor up. 
Make men in common kneel, and common men 
Stand up like giants. Banish out of sight 
The bright minds, and the dull ones beam like 

beacons. 
(/4 knocking is heard at the Right Side Entrance.^ 
Enter — Left — the Maid. 
Maid. My master? 
Columbus (to Maid). Well? 
Maid. Your wife desires to see you. 

Columbus. I come; but there is knocking at the 
door. 

Exit — Right — Maid. 
(Columbus continues to his brothers.^ 
If she were not so ill now, I should leave 
This Portugal forever. 

Such baseness ? 
Diego. Why ask me ? Am I the devil ? 



I70 COLUMBUS. 

Bartholomew. Yes; you should. 

Columbus. There certainly is elsewhere enterprise 
With honesty. I think that I should try 
The court of England. You have seen their men : — 
White skinned, the spirit just behind the face, 
Their very faults the proof they are not false; 
Too impudent for truthlessness, too bold 
To stab behind one's back, too proud of push 
To trip with little tricks, too fond of sport 
To keep one down, when down. 

Bartholomew. Why, I might go there. 

Columbus. You might and would, Bartholomew? 

Bartholomew. I will. 

Enter — Right — Maid. 

Columbus {to Maid). A visitor? 

Maid. A message from the king. 

Diego. We thought it coming. Now you are 
prepared. 

Columbus. My soul demands in one whom I obey 
A moral equal, at the least. It comes 
In vain. 

{To Maid.) 
And messengers ? 

Maid. Yes. 

Columbus. Show them in. 

Exit — Right — Maid. The ^^^^ ^Columbus 

21 Columbus. With what intent ? 

Breviesca. To satisfy you 

Columbus. Me ? 

Why, I am satisfied remaining here. 



COLUMBUS, 171 

follow her, and look through the door, which 

she leaves ajar. 
Breviesca ? He alone makes both of them 
Birds of most evil omen. 

Enter — Right — Breviesca a7id another man, at- 
tended by Maid, who exits at Left. All bow. 
Gentlemen ? — 

And will you sit ? 
Breviesca. I thank you, no. The king 

Sends here requesting you to visit him. 
Columbus Requesting me to visit him ? For what ? 
Breviesca. Your charts. — He would examine them 

with you." 
Columbus. He sends me then the means with 

which to go ? 
Breviesca. How so ? 

Columbus. The money ? or conveyance ? 

Breviesca. What ? 

Columbus. I need the one or other. 
Diego. Certainly. 

Breviesca. But when the king demands 

Columbus (in a hesitating way). 

He promised me 

A sum of money for my charts. He must 



Breviesca. But he demands your presence. 
Columbus. He demands? 

Ah, not for my sake, — but for his, you come. 

He sends me then, etc. 



1^2 COLUMBUS, 

Breviesca. You dare dispute the royal will ? 
Columbus. I dare 

Do nothing to impugn the royal honor. 

Enter — Left — Maid, evidently in distress. 

Maid. My master ? 

Columbus. Why, what is it ? 

Maid. She — seems — dying. 

Columbus. What, what ? my wife 1 

{^Starts for the door — Left — Breviesca makes a 
gesture of disapproval^ 
Breviesca. Give us your answer first. 

Columbus. You press this now ? 
Breviesca. We represent the king. 

Do you forget that he must be supreme ? 
Columbus. I do in presence of a Higher King. 
Oh, what has happened ? 

Exeunt — Left — Columbus and the Maid. 

Breviesca. What we shall report.^'' 

Curtain. End of Act I. 

^2 Exeunt — Right — BREVIESCA and other man. 
Diego {pointing toward Lef I), 

If she be flown, I fear we all must fly. 
Bartholomew. But why should he so suffer !— I 
half think 

In truth to spirit there is that which makes 

All earth its enemy. 
Diego. Yet conquers it. 



COLUMBUS. 173 



ACT SECOND. 

Scene First : — A Spanish camp by night, illumed by 
distant red camp-fires. Backing at the Left a royal 
tent with curtains before its e7itra7ice. To the sides 
at right of stage, connecting with Right Side Second 
Entra7ice, the tent ^Columbus, its curtains drawn 
aside revealing a cot or lounge on which two or more 
can sit, also a chair or two. fust outside the same 
tent on the side toward the center of stage, a log on 
which two or more can sit. To the sides at JLeft of 
stage, trees. Entr apices at the I^ft Center through 
the royal tent ; at the Right Side Rear, behind the 
tent of Columbus / at the Right Side through his 
tent; at the Right Side Front, between it and the 
audience; and at the Left Side, Rear and Front 
through trees. 

Enter — Left — a Moor. 

Moor. Darkness for deeds of darkness ! Thank 
the stars, 
I well nigh touch the queen's pavilion; yet 
In all this Christian camp, blood-red as life, 
Not one suspects the Moor — this heathen worm 
Who wriggles toward its core. Her tent ! — steal in! 

{^Addressing his steel dirk as he looks at it^ then lifts 
it upward. ) 
Be that my motto: Steel in, till you start. 



174 COLUMBUS. 

The spirit of the queen, steel it away. 
Hark! — some one comes here. Let me hide. — Aha! 
(Looks around^ then apparently hides himself 
in the folds of the canvas at the Back Side 
of the tent of Columbus.) 
Convenient folds these ! — Thank you, Christian 
friends. 

Exit the Moor — Right — behind the tent of 
Columbus. 

Enter — Right — through this tent, Diego and Colum- 
bus, dressed as a soldier. 
{The two are at first inside the tent; but, as 
they talk, they gradually come out ojito the 
stage in front of it.) 
Columbus. Have heard from England and Bar- 
tholomew? 
Diego. I have. 
Columbus. He had success? 
Diego. They thought us fools. 

And how fared you in Genoa and Venice? 
Columbus. They knew we were." 
Diego. Then we must give it up ? 

Columbus. My voyage ? 
Diego. Yes. 

23 1 half believe that flight 
Was all that saved me from a mad-house. Oh, 
The world plays tyrant to the soul would serve it. 
It treats him like a female relative 



COLUMBUS. 175 

Columbus. Not till I die; and that 

I will do soon as hope dies out of me. 
Diego. You have enlisted? 
Columbus. It will help me on. 

Men judge of us by standards in themselves; 
And so like us when they see us like them. 
Kings take to tales, too, writ with points like 
this— 

{Pointings with a gesture^ to his sword. ) 
To underscore "your humble servant" when 
He signs requests. 

Enter — Left Side — at the Rear two young 
Officers. They stand looking at Co- 
lumbus and Diego, making signs to in- 
dicate that they consider Columbus out of 
his mind. Columbus notices them. 
Diego. And have you met the king? 

Columbus. Am waiting for a chance 

Diego. It promises? 

What seem your prospects? 
Columbus {^pointing to the officers^. 

Watch those men and see. 
We ape sign-language here. Theirs means "Co- 
lumbus." 



Whose drudgery is deemed supremely paid 
By her own love. But when the wage one wants 
Is not within one, love is never paid. 
Diego. Yes, yes ; I fear that we must give it up, etc. 



Ijt COLUMBUS. 

The women, children, all have learned it, too. 

And point it now and then with exclamations. 
Diego {glancing angrily at the men). Outrageous ! I 

will stop them. 
Columbus {staying him with his hand). Why, what 
use? 

Far better have men point at us and laugh, 

Than never have them point to us at all. 
Diego. Do you say this, who were so sensitive, 

High-spirited ? 

{The Officers cross the stage and Exeunt at the 
Right Rear?) 

Columbus. One may have so much sense 

It holds the spirit down. Besides, our spheres 
Are stagnant and need movement. Make men 

take 
You gravely if you can ; if not, what though 
They laugh? You move them that way. There 

are times 
The tiniest tinkling that can tap the air 
Rings up life's curtain for its grandest act. 

'"^ To appease what he esteems as God. 

Diego. How so? 

Columbus, a woman craves attention and a home. 
Her lover's mission, let it oft withdraw 
His ear or sphere from her, seems then her rival. 

Diego. It would not, did she love the man's true 
self. 



COLUMBUS, 17 J 

Diego. You talk as if all friends were lost. 

Columbus. Nay, light, 

It trails the shadow. It is those with friends 
Are sure of foes ; and only those with neither 
Are sure of neither. 

Diego. Then you have friends? 

Columbus. Yes. 

Diego. What class of people? 

Columbus. Oh, both Dukes and Dons ,• 

And, to make life complete, at least one woman, 

Diego. Aha ! 

Columbus. The image of my lost Felipa. 

Diego. You mean to marry her? 

Columbus. Had I the wish 

I could not have the will. Her family 
Are not agreeable 

Diego. To you ? 

Columbus. To her. 

When seen with me ; and — well ! — enough 
For one man to have sacrificed one woman.^* 
This one is but a sister, name more sacred 



Columbus. Mayhap, and yet the kinds of love men 

feel 

For mistress and for mission are so like ! 

What, if behind the mission's love should be 
Some sentient spirit too in realms unseen ? 
These women may be right. They may have 

rivals. 



178 COLUMBUS. 

Than wife, I think, as wives go now. 
Diego. She thinks 

This too ? 
Columbus. She should, and you ? 
Diego. I think, perhaps, 

You ought to marry her.^^ 

Enter — Left Side Front — the Monk, Juan, 
Perez, another Monk, and the officer 
Sanchez. 
Columbus {looking toward the Monk). Why, who 

are these ? 
Perez {to Columbus). 
God greet you friends. 



But what Felipa felt I could not help. 

Yet may avoid its repetition. 
Diego {doubtfully). Humph ! 

Columbus. This one is but a sister, etc. 

^^ Columbus. No ! I have vowed 

Religiously — 
Diego. And might not be the first 

Religion led astray. 
Columbus. Astray ! how so ? 
Diego. A brotherly or sisterly regard 

Grows up from family relationship. 

Train boys and girls together, side by side, 

As in one loyal household, holding all 

Humanity, and then perchance, may love's dis- 
honor 

Seem foul as incest, and imperilers of it. 



COLUMBUS. 179 

Columbus. His messengers are welcome. 

Perez. And doubly so if from Jerusalem ? 

Columbus. The holy city ? 

Perez. Yes. The grand Soldan 

Of Egypt sent us. 

Columbus. With a message ? 

Perez. Yes. 

He vows, in case the Spaniard will not stay 
This war against the Moor, to rouse the East, 
Pull down all Christian churches, and beneath 
Entomb their worshipers. 

Columbus. He thinks this threat 

Will influence Ferdinand? 



No longer vehicles ot life humane, 
Unsouled of self-control, all flag themselves 
The death-trucks that they are, and make health 

scud 
From their contagion as from carrion. 

Columbus. You mean 

Diego. The young are not so trained in Spain — 
Not schooled to know each other, soul by soul, 
And nothing but the soul can outweigh sense, 

Columbus. In general, true ! — but she 

Diego. Our lives reflect 

The light of our surroundings. What are here ?— ^ 
Accursed customs that mistrust the soul, 
Ay, robe its every feature in their rags, 
Draped all to hint unshapeliness beneath. 
Away with earthly habits that can hide 
God's image framed within ! 



i8o 


COLUMBUS. 


Sanchez. 


It should not. 


Perez. 


No. 


Columbus. 


But must the faithful suffer ? 


Perez. 


They do now. 



At each pretext oppressed, reviled, and robbed 
Of property and freedom, flayed and hung, 
And heaven knows what ; for it gets most of 

them.'' 
Diego {^glancing at the Monks and speaking aside to 

Columbus). 
They seek the king — might speak for you, 

not so? 
Columbus {to Diego). They might. 

{To the Monks.) Would you not rest with us 

to-night ? 
Perez. We thank you — and your name ? 

(Diego and the others as Co'lvmbvs gestures 

to them, enter tent of Columbus and sit. 

Columbus sits on the log to the left of his tent 



^^ Sanchez. That should not be. 

Perez. Ah, when what should be is, 

What is will be beyond this earth. 

Sanchez. When once 

Old Spain's white line of ships have tailed for 

good 
This flying kite here of the Moor, and cleared 
The blue about us, there should rest no ship 
Not steered to right our brethren there. 



COLUMBUS, i8l 

with his back to center^ 
Columbus. Columbus. 

Perez. Oh ! 

Have heard of you.''' {Keeps silent.) 
Columbus. The silence of the good 

Damns more than bad men's curses. Yet my 
aims 

Are one with yours — to speed the truth to all. 

But " all " means more than most men deem. 
Perez. The wise 

Aim not beyond their reach. 
Columbus. The faithful aim 

Wherever they are called. 
Perez. You heard the call 

Just made ? 
Columbus. And not a breast could out-thrill mine 

With indignation at the tale. 
Perez. It failed 

To stir your lip to pledges. 

Other Monk. Not one. 

Perez {to Sanchez). Would you go ? 

Sanchez. Ay, I would. 

Perez. The time may come 

" Columbus. Heard good ? 
Perez. Why ? — 

Columbus. Ah, have not. 

I understand. 



1 82 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. When heaven crowns 

My present plan 

Perez. You will be like your mates, 

Ennobled, rich, and found a family. 
Columbus. My western mission is for Christ 
alone. 

Pray heaven with me that I fulfill it ; then 

I vow to live a life like yours, and more — 

To give it to this eastern mission. See — 
(Drawing his sword and showing the cross forming 
its hilt.) 

This cross — it aims the sword I wield! — will 
find 

No final rest, till waved above the crescent. 
Perez. You seem a holy man. 

Enter — Left Center, from the royal tent, — ■ 
Beatrix, advances across the stage, 
touches Columbus on his back, then with- 
draws toward Right Side Rear, behind his 
tent, 

Columbus. Nay, none is that. 

When men seem holy do not think of them, 

^^ this time of night ? 

Have you forgot ? Your father 

Beatrix. Is a bird, 

Flown southward, wrong, forgetting for a time 

The winter whence it fled ? 
Columbus. But there are ways 



COLUMBUS. 183 

But of the cause that has affected them. 
(Columbus rises^ as if looking for Beatrix.) 
Perez {to the other Monk). He seems inspired by 
purposes well worth 
The world's regard. 
Other MoNk. He does. 

Columbus {aside as he looks behind hint). 

Who comes? — I think 
I know her. {To Diego) Diego, will you guide 

our friends 
Across the pathway to our other tent? 
One waits here who has business with me. 

Exeunt — Right — through the tent of Coi^JM.- 
BUS, Diego, Sanchez, and the Monks. 
Enter — Right— from behind the same tent^ Beatrix. 
Columbus. You, Beatrix ? and here ? — ^® 
Beatrix. These worthy friars 

Just in your tent, I hear, will see the king. 
They might commend you. 
Columbus. Yes, I thank you. 

Beatrix. Well ? 



Beatrix. I am not welcome then ? 

Columbus. Oh no — not that — 

But unexpected. 
Beatrix. I have heard you say 

Good fortune would be so. 
Columbus. You bring it, then ? 

Beatrix. One door ajar to it. These worthy, etc 



1 84 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. More? 

Beatrix. You seem cold. 

Columbus. The night is. 

Beatrix. I am not. 

Columbus. No, no, forgive me. 

Beatrix. I have more to say. 

The Dona Bobadilla 

Columbus. Your old foe ? 

Beatrix. New friend ; for your sake made and 
kept a friend. — ^* 

This Dona Bobadilla has in view 

To urge your claims upon the queen. 
Columbus. She has ? — 

What is it makes a woman serve as you 

A mere enthusiast without success? 
Beatrix. No need were there to serve one with 

success. 
Columbus. But failure 



Beatrix. Shows a spirit as it is. 

It throws one's manhood into full relief, 
Stript of all circumstance and accident. 

Columbus.^" The world is full of brains, and all 
the brains 

2^ By courtesies limbering my stiff limbs of pride 

Till limp and limping as humility. 

Columbus. But really 

Beatrix. Really, when one's inward sense 

Of mastership outweighs an outward show 

Of servitude, why, one but serves herself. 



COLUMBUS. 185 

Of whims, and all that gives the whims more worth 

Than blood that churns them up to consciousness, 

Is that they leave the brain and live in deeds. 

Mine have not done this yet. 
Beatrix {sitting on log to left of tent of Columbus, and 
in doing so, letting the shawl that she has worn 
fall from her on to the log behind her. Colum- 
bus sta?tds at the right, and after a little while 
sits beside her). 

The deed that best 

Proves each man's workmanship is what he is. 

If God be the eternal, he who shows 

Eternal perseverance falls not far 

From fellow-craft with Him. 
Columbus. You, like a myth, 

Are not inspired, but yet inspiring; not 

Religion, but could make a man religious. 
Beatrix. You speak in figures. 
Columbus. We all live in them, 

Beatrix. What then ? 

Columbus. Why, they are beautiful. 

Beatrix. And this 

Gives life its beauty ? 
Columbus. Ay, and interest. 

For every time a spirit veiled in them 

2° Columbus. This heart of mine were heavy were it not 
Made light and bright by eyes that can detect, 
Beneath all veils disguising what it is, 
Its one sole virtue — You forget that all 



1 86 COLUMBUS. 

Reveals itself, why, it anticipates 
The resurrection of the soul, not so ? 
And that brings heaven, 
Beatrix. Then to reveal myself — — 

Columbus. Is very much in such a world as this— 

When owning so much that is worth revealing. 
Beatrix. You jest. 

Columbus. I am in earnest. When one needs 
More strength of spirit, nothing save a spirit 
Can ever give it. You have given me yours, 
Beatrix. In truth I have. Not seldom I have 
thought 
That I could lose my soul to give it you. 
Columbus. Thank Godc, a brother's love need not 
accept 
The sacrifice. — But — should we linger here? 

Your 

Beatrix. Well? 

Columbus. Your relatives — 

Beatrix. Of flesh, or soul? 

I care but for the latter. You 

Columbus. But yet 

Their reasons are the world's. We live in Spain. 
You are — 

Enter — Right— from behind Columbus* tent — 
The Moor, looks at Columbus and Bea- 
trix then begins to draw away from the 
log the shawl that is beside and behind her. 
Beatrix. A virgin, yes, but were I tfie- — — 



COLUMBUS. 187 

Columbus. Do not say that — 

Beatrix. I could imagine times 

When one I know would seem divine. 
Columbus. Wait, wait !— 

How near together heaven and hell may be ! 
Beatrix. Yes; only earth and earthly thinking 
make 
It possible for sense to deem them two. 
Throne God in hell, all heaven would burst the 

gates 
And dream of blessed rest, though every foot 
Were sea'd upon a prostrate seething devil. 

{The shawl drawn by the Moor disappears 
from the log behind Beatrix. Just as it 
does so, CoYXiW^Xi'S, catches sight of it. The 
Moor starts back and wraps the shawl 
about him. Columbus rises^ 
Columbus. What moved? {to Beatrix who also 
rises,) 

Your shawl 

Beatrix. Was taken ? 

Columbus. Yes — drawn off. 

Beatrix. Some one was listening ? 

Columbus. Yes — keep still. 

(Exit — Left Center — through the royal tent—- 
The Moor. Columbus sees him. 

I see 
A form. It disappeared there in your tent. 
Beatrix. My shawl on ? 
Columbus. Yes. 



1 88 COLUMBUS, 

Beatrix. Why, all the ladies' tents — 

The queen's — are reached through that. I follow. 
Columbus. No — 

A thief, — assassin, may be. No, let me — 
{Advancing toward the royal tent.) 
Beatrix (stopping him). Be thought a culprit ? — 

never ! 
Columbus {Jtanding her a dirk^ Then take this, 

And call me. I will keep in hearing. — God ! 

I cannot bear to let you go. 
Beatrix. I must. 

Exit — Left Center — through the royal tent 
Beatrix with the dirk in hand. 

Columbus. How brave in her! Yet what could 
one expect ! 
How brave in her to let me know her love ! 
And what unnatural, unmanned man am I, 
Who does not, will not dare, return it her ! 
Strange mixture life is of the right and wrong ! 
Should one be good, or kind ? and which is 

which ? 
How much that seems in line for both is but 
A ray that falls to form a pathway here 
From the rent forms of clouds beyond our reach 
Which, while they let the light in, bring the 
storm ! 

Voices {within the tent at Left Center^. Help, help ! 

Columbus. Who called? 



COLUMBUS. 189 

Beatrix {appearing at Left Center^ 

Columbus, come ! — A Moor 
Has killed the guard. 
Columbus. You rouse the camp. 

{Calling aloud) A Moor ! 

Exit Left Ceftter, Columbus. 
Beatrix {callhig aloud). A Moor ! 

Enter — Left Side Rear, Second and Front — Sanchez 
and Soldiers. BEATRix/^/Vz/i- to Left Center. 
In there !^may kill the queen — a Moor! 
Exeunt — Left Center — Sanchez and Soldiers. 

Voices {from within the royal tent at Left Center). 
Ay, ay, take this and that. 

Enter from Left Center, Sanchez, Columbus and 
Soldiers dragging a dummy form of the Moor. 

Sanchez. Here — drag him out ! 

Is dead already — Humph! — is limp enough 
To make a rug of at the door. 

Enter — Right Side Rear — other Soldiers, the officer 

Gutierrez and the King. 
Gutierrez. The King. 

(All salute. The King looks at the Moor.) 
King. Who is he ? 

Sanchez. An assassin — sought the queen — 

Surprised the guard. 



1 90 COLUMBUS. 

King. He did not reach her? 
Sanchez. No. 

{Pointing io Columbus.) 
Well nigh ! He tracked him in. We mastered 
him. 
King {to Columbus). Ay, ay ! Your name .? 

Columbus. Columbus. 

King {to all.) Now to rest. 

{To Columbus). 
But you may come with me — Would see you 
further. 

Exeunt — Left Center — King, Gutierrez, 
Columbus, Soldiers, Beatrix. 

Exeunt at other entrances., Omnes. 



Scene Second. — Council Chamber in the Dominican 
Convent of St. Stephen at Salamanca. Dark wood 
pa7ieling in ceiling and walls. A long table in the 
Rear with chairs behind it and at both ends. En- 
trances at Right and Left sides. Enter — Left — 
Zalora and Fernandez. 

^^ Fernandez. And, say. does that 

Make preachers, eh ? sensational ? You should 
know. 

Zalora. You think sensations are acquired ? 

Fernandez. I know 

A soul that squeals well, is a soul well squeezed. 



COLUMBUS. 191 

Fernandez. All here ? 

Zalora. Oh yes. One must obey the king. 

Fernandez. He must suppose the times ahead 
are dark. 

Zalora. How so ? 

Fernandez. In giving us \ki\s pastime here. 

Zalora. We have our holy days and holidays. 
I sometimes wonder which are holier. 

Fernandez. What, what ! and you a priest ? 

Zalora. An old one — yes. 

Like other earthly things, our lives move on 
Half light, half shadow, and with me 
The shadows came in youth. 

Fernandez. Your brilliancy 

Developed late, eh 1 like a winter's dawn — 
Or lightning from a cloud. But you are right. 
This life is like a bladder-air-ball. If 
You press its youth-side in, you, by-and-by, 

Enter — at Right — St. Angel and Perez and ex- 
change greetings with Fernandez and Zalora. 
Will bulge its age-side out." — Not so ? — Tell why 
These balls— our children's balls — are like a 
bishop. 

Sensation is the step-son of depression. 

You step on 

Zalora. Oh, go to ! — that spoils the form. 

St. Angel. What form ? 

Fernandez (to St. Angel). Why, of a ball. 

{to Zalora). Not so ?— Tell why, etc 



192 COLUMBUS. 

Perez (laughing and pointing to Zalora). 

Because, like him, they usually are round 2 
St. Angel. And sometimes, though not always. 

holy., eh? 
Zalora (good-naturedly). 

Why point your wit with personality? 
St. Angel. Oh never, when the person is around. 

But now the child's ball? 
Fernandez. Why, the bawl is made 

(Brings his hands down as if ordaining., and also 
striking a blow.) 

By laying on of hands. 

32 Should know. You sent for us. 
Zalora. And why for me ? 

Am I an expert on insanity ? 
Fernandez {to Zalora). Oh no, your place is on 

beyond an ^'jrpert. 
Talavera. a present pert ? 
Fernandez. Beyond that too. 

Zalora. How so I 

Fernandez. Beyond an xpert is a y-z-^oxi. 
Zalora. Quite low down in the alphabet of wit ! 
Fernandez. I know — the last of it— just where 

you shoe it. 
Fonseca {to AranA in another part of the hall). 

But think — the danger. 
Arana. He will never sail ! 

Fonseca. Not that I mean, but in his theories. 

You know they contradict the church. 
Arana. If this 

Be true— 



COLUMBUS. 193 

{All laugh?) 
Enter — Right — Mendoza and Talavera. 
Enter — Left— K^KiiiK, Fonseca, Breviesca 
and others. All in^ or entering^ the hall 
exchange greetings. 
Talavera {to Fernandez). What were you do- 
ing? 
Fernandez. Our duty here — ordaining nonsense. 
You 
Should know.^'' 
Talavera. You all make too much light of this. 
Fernandez. What better can enligh:en dullness, 
pray, 



Fonseca. It is, — is very serious. 

Fernandez {to Fonseca). And what of that ? I 
say the best of physics 
For seriousness is laughter. Where is bile, 
Well tickled throats will throw it up. 

Fonseca. To fool 

With fools is feeding folly. 

Fernandez. Feed a fool 

On folly, and he grows so fat with it 
That soon all wisdom's world that he would sit on, 
Would it not die itself, must make him diet. 

Breviesca. Is too light-weighted — off his balance 
now. 

Fernandez. If off his balance, balance him, ay, 
ay- 
Get even with him — no great task for you ! 

Talavera. Come, come. You all, etc. 



194 COLUMBUS. 

Than making light of it ? 
Breviesca. No enlightening him! ^^ 

All begin to take places around the table ^ though 
not yet to sit. Talavera goes to the cen- 
tral seat behind it, Mendoza to his right, 
and St. Angel and Perez to the right 
of Mendoza. Fonseca, Breviesca, 
Arana, Zalora and Fernandez are 
at Talavera's Left. Others go where 
there are places. 
Fonseca. We soon shall show you. 
St. Angel {to Perez). Show us, as I think, 

Birds of another's feather — ^birds oi prey. 
Perez. In //'^j;/;^^ they do priest's work. 
St. Angel. Yes ; in that — 

And making mortals humble. One with aught 
To plume himself on, will not go unplucked. 



^^ St. Angel. That must be proved. 

Zalora. Aha ! You seem his friend. 

Then tell us, if you can, our mission here. 
St. Angel. Why, to report about Columbus. 
Fernandez. Humph ! 

About him, eh ? How far about him, pray ? 
St. Angel. The truth. 
Fernandez. What, what? — are not to exercise 

Our minds ? — let them revolve about, and then 

Evolve 

Fonseca. Oh, cease your jesting ! 
Fernandez. Jesting ? — No. 



COLUMBUS. 195 

But see — the victim. 

Enter — ^2^/^/— Columbus. 
Talavera (to those in the chamber) . 

Friends, the Mariner. 
^To Columbus and all.') 
I think that you have met before. 

(Columbus and all exchange greetings. ) 

And now " 
The others sit. Talavera motions to 
Columbus to do the same^ which he does 
at the extreme right. 
(To Columbus.) 
They say you wish to have a fleet and men, 
And outfit, too, involving much expense. 
What reasons have you ? 
Columbus. To extend the sway 

We form a body sitting on Columbus. 
An old hen, even, doing this, I say, 
Would hatch out something. 
Zalora. Wait now. You will find 

Enough old hens here to bring forth, at least. 
What they will think worth while their cackling 
over. 

84 We get to work. Where thought appeals to 

thought, 
The only sovereign is the wisest word, 
Which sometimes is the last word ; — any way, 
Is always of the spirit, and needs not 
Accoutrements and courtesies of form 



196 COLUMBUS. 

Of Spain and Christianity in lands 

Where now they are not known. 
Talavera. That wish is ours. 

What proof have you, though, that these lands 
exist ? 
Columbus. Reports of mariners — authority — 

The nature of the world. 
Talavera. Do these off-set 

The dangers ? 
Columbus. Which ones t 

Arana. Like the boiling waves 

Of Africa, and giants on the shores. 
Columbus. Mere fables, all ! Why, I myself have 
sailed 

To Guinea, past where these were said to be.^* 

Vicenti, too, some scores of leagues beyond 

To prove its prestige. We can waive them, then, 
And let the spirit prompt us as it may. 
{Turning to COLUMBUS.) 

2^ And have you never heard of Eudoxus 

Of Cyzicus, who left Arabia 

And reached Gibraltar ! how too from Gibraltar 

The Carthaginian Hanno, sailing back, 

Came to Arabia ? 
FONSECA. All pagan lies ! 

Columbus. A statement that confutes a general 
faith 

At risk of reputation ; yet meantime 

Confirms our natural reasoning, seldom lies. 



COLUMBUS. 197 

The Cape St. Vincent, came on floating wood 
Carved by men's hands. 

Zalora. Ay, from some other ship. 

Columbus. Then lost in many places. Wood 
carved thus 
Was found by my own brother-in-law, Correo. 
And plants and trees too drift thus from the west. 

FoNSECA. Washed there, washed back. 

Columbus. No, different in kind 

From any in the East. They found besides 
Two men's forms cast upon the isle of Flores, 
With features not at all like men known here. 

Aran A. And what of that? 

Columbus. The men — not only they — ■ 

The trees, the plants, are like in kind to those 
Described by Polo and by Mandeville 

Who would have said this, had it not been true? 

Yet that it should be, what more natural ? 
Zalora. But sailing east is not the same as west. 
Columbus. Enough is known to warrant even that. 
Fernandez. St. Brandan and the seven cities, yes ! 

But these have always melted into clouds 

To those who sought them. 
Columbus. Other lands are told of. 
Mendoza, Atlantis, eh? 
Columbus. Yes, and Antilla too. 

Well known to Carthage, Aristotle says. 

And many a modern vessel has been driven 

Where shores have been described by accident 

And other signs of 



198 COLUMBUS. 

As found in those great lands of Gengis Khan 

And Prester John, far in the Indies. 
Aran A. They 

Were east, not west. 
Columbus. Just so, both east and west. 

Fernandez. What, what? 

Breviesca {to Fernandez). You see 

Columbus. It seems a contradiction. 

It would not, did you think the world were 
round.'' 
Arana {to Columbus). And, if the world were 
round — What, then, forsooth ? — 

Could sail around it, without tumbling off ? 
FoNSECA {to Zalora). Ay, or without the water's 

tumbling off ? 
Arana. Same thing. 
Fernandez {good naturedly to Columbus). 

Fonseca. Desert Islands. 

Columbus. No. 

Vicenti, twenty-score of leagues beyond, etc. 

2^ Fonseca {laughing). No, never, no ! 

Arana. No never ! 

Zalora {to CoLU^^BUS sarcastically). You are right. 

Columbus. There is authority for thinking this. 

Arana. For fancying it, yes ; or anything. 

C0LL"MBUS. But Aristotle, Seneca, and Pliny 
Say one can sail from Cadiz to the Indies. 

Talavera. Yet wait. Besides this, is it not a fact 
That they too calculated three years' time, — 
Enough to starve a ship's crew ten times over 



COLUMBUS. 199 

I think that you must be the man 
That once I heard of, though I never saw him, 
Who wants to turn the whole world upside- 
down 

FoNSECA. Where roots of trees bear leaves, and 

rain spurts up. 
Breviesca. Oh, he would feel at home there— let 
him go! 
His head feels upside down without the going. 
Fernandez. You wait and hear the whole tale. 
They examined 
The feet of those they found at Flores ; not so ? 
Zalora. They did? 

Fernandez. Oh yes! and found them shaped 
like spiders'. 
Made to walk up like this. 

{^Gesturing with his hands?) 

Before her cruise could compass it ? 

Columbus. Some did ; 

Yet, judging by the globe of Ptolemy, 
Compared with one Marinus made, of Tyre, 
A third of it alone rests unexplored, — 
Eight hours of twenty-four. You measure this. 
It seems not more than seven hundred leagues. 

FoNSECA, You measure it ? — The whole of it is 
fancy, 

Arana. Yes ; — not a ray of reason in it. 

Fonseca. No. 

Arana {to Columbus). And, if the world were round 
what, then, etc. 



2CX) COLUMBUS. 

Breviesca. Like those one sees 

Clawed on a pictured devil. 
FoNSECA. If he sail, 

He soon may see them too upon a real one. 
Talavera. Severe! 
FoNSECA. I mean it; ay, I speak the truth. 

The holy father, St. Augustine, shows it: 

Men formed like this — to walk thus upside- 
down — 

Could not be sons of Adam." 
Arana. Right ! 

Breviesca. Ay, ay. 

Columbus. But are you sure these men are not 

like us? 
FoNSECA. Humph, you would practice many 
years before 

You walked with your heels up. 
Columbus. But there, as here, 

The earth may seem to be below one. 
Arana. Ah! 

We grant to fancy, man, a certain flight — 

3' Did they live, 

It would upset our whole historic base 

Of Christian faith. 
Arana. Just so ! 

Fonseca. To argue it 

At all — grant it conceivable — involves 

Clear heresy. 
Zalora. Hear, hear ! 

Arana. Quite right ! etc. 



COLUMBUS. 20I 

Have witnessed one to-day. But do you dream 

Her wings could turn us all to flies 

Without our knowing it? 
Columbus. There may be laws 

Of nature past our understanding. 
Breviesca. Yes. 

■ He means that when we lose our understanding — 

Has had experience of that — why then 

Talavera. Come, no more nonsense, gentlemen. 
Zalora {rising). No more? 

Time to adjourn then, eh? Is nothing else 

Before the house. 
Columbus {rising to address Zalora). 

In such a case as this, 

In which none know the truth 

FoNSECA {rising). Your pardon, but 

The Scripture says : " He stretcheth out the 
heavens " — 

How ? — like a ball ? — No, no; but " like a tent." '' 
Columbus. Were one upon the other side the globe. 

^^ You dare throw doubt upon the word of Him 

"Who framed creation ? 
Columbus. What you quote is but 

A figure. 
FoNSECA. Fiction ? 

Columbus. Figure — not the same. 

Breviesca. Accuse of figuring — Him who knows 
the end 

From the beginning — all the sum at once ? 

He does not figure up. He counts the whole. 



202 COLUMBUS. 

The heavens might seem as like a tent as here. 
FoNSECA. They only might ? The Scripture says 
they do. 

You make it doubtful ? 
Breviesca. Heretic ! 

Arana. Too true ! 

Columbus. My one desire, the purpose of my life 

Is to become an earthly instrument 

Through which the Scriptures may become fulfilled, 

That all the ends of earth — they are ends now — 

Be brought together with one Lord and God. 
FoNSECA. What good would this do, if His word 

were false ? 
Columbus [in surprise). You think I doubt it. 
FoNSECA. We have heard you term 

Its affirmations figures, argue down — 

And that with pagan proofs — the fathers. Truth 

Can never change. 
Columbus. We can. 

FoNSECA. And change it ? 

Columbus. Change 

Its bearings for us. Truth is of the heaven : 

Talavera {to Breviesca). Oh, you mistake his 

meaning ! 
Breviesca {looking around incredulously). What ? 
Fernandez {to Breviesca). Yes, yes. 

2^ The one is infinite, the other finite : 
The one expressed in light itself, the other 
In forms that but reflect light ; and the truth. 
Made such but by reflection, cannot flash 



COLUMBUS. 203 

The mind regarding it is of the earth. ^^ 

Give blind men sight. At first their new-viewed 
sun 

Will stand still in the heaven. But give them 
time, 

That sun will set and rise. Then give them 
space, 

Lift them a thousand miles above the soil, 

It may do neither. 
Arana. Dangerous doctrine that! 

FoNSECA {to Columbus), No truth then, eh? 
Columbus. Yes; truth enough for all. 

But truth expressed is coin to use, not hoard. 

For when it bears the stamp of times too old. 

It loses current value. 
FoNSECA. Hear that ! hear ! *" 

Columbus. The moonlight guides us, if we have 
no sun. 

But forms that loom at midnight lie to those 

Who know them in the day ; and in the day 

No judgment of the distance can be true 

Except for him who pushes on to reach it.*^ 

An equal ray to every view-point. 
Several. Oh ! 

Columbus. Give blind men sight, etc. 

40 Why, that blasphemes tradition ! Just as if 
Antiquity itself did not prove truth ! 

41 FoNSECA. Hold ! Hold ! Enough of this I There is 
a law 



204 COLUMBUS, 

Enter — Right — an Attendant. 
Talavera {rising). A moment, gentlemen, 
(To Attendant.) 

What is it ? 
Attendant. Sire, 

The royal courier. 
Talavera. Ah, has come so soon "i 

{To all.) 
Then for to-day our conference must end. 
(All who are sitting rise.) 
Columbus (to Talavera). 

And I withdraw 1 
Talavera (bowing in assent and adieu to Columbus). 

We thank you for your candor. 
(Columbus bows to all the council, and the council to 

him.) 
Exeunt — Right — Columbus and Attendant, show- 
ing him out. 
FoNSECA (moving with others toward the Left). 

But we must see we have no more of it. 
Fernandez ( to Zalora, Talavera and Mendoza, 
who are walking behind Fonseca, Arana, 
Breviesca a7id others). 
A spark in hayloft ! bull in porcelain ! 
Will bring the whole church crackling round us yet. 

That ought to be enforced here. We shall see ! 
Columbus. The world will see in time that I am right. 
No theory spun for concepts immature 
Can ever fit their full maturity. 



COLUMBUS. 205 

Exeunt — Left — Fonseca, Arana, Breviesca and 

others. 
Mendoza {to Fernandez). 
But racy as a bull fight ? 
Fernandez. In the which 

The bull did some tall tossing. 
Exeunt — Left — First Mendoza, then Zalora, Tala- 

VERA a7id Fernandez. 
Perez {to St. Angel). Did you hear ?— 

Strange words for him. 
St. Angel. No; I have always found 

The light mind is the bright mind. Wit and wits 
Are twins ; without the other each is lacking. 
Exeunt — Right — St. Angel and all others. 



Scene Third. — Exterior of the Convent of LaRabida, 
near the little seaport of Ealos, in Andalusia, i?i 
Spain. Backing, a wall, behind which are hills, 
trees, a?id a distant sea-view. At the right, a gateway 
opening into the Convent. At the left, trees, etc. 
Entrances at Right Side Rear, behind the Convent ; 
Right Side, further forward, through a gateway 
opening into the Convent; Left Side Rear and 
Front through trees. 

Enter — Right Side Rear — Beatrix, a Maid, and 
Diego in out-door costumes. 

Beatrix. I could not keep him back. 



206 COLUMBUS. 

Diego. You tried ?*^ Make friends 

Of little souls. Humph ! they are common. 

Beatrix {offended^. What ? 

Diego. A spirit's measure is its outlook. Find 
A man horizoned by the whole broad world 
Who sees it all in all, he stands a son 
Of God! — is here to do his Father's work; 
And you should join in it, or not join him. 

Beatrix. Why should he go to France? — no 
sailors there. 

Diego. A spirit conscious of a higher mission 
Is always on the wing. 

Beatrix. You know our king 

Gave weight to what he argued, promised ships? 

Diego. But would not place my brother in com- 
mand. 

Beatrix. Far safer so. 

Diego. For whom? 

Beatrix. Your brother. 

Diego. What? 

You talked of his own safety to my brother? 

Beatrix. Why, he had done his duty, sown the 
seed; 
Then why not leave the rest with Providence? 

^'^ Diego. You tried to block 

His pathway, eh? but he looked over you — 
Beyond you ? 

Beatrix. Humph ! poor treatment from a friend ! 

Diego. And you would fill his whole horizon then ? 



COLUMBUS, 207 

Diego. Fling seed to seas, or bid it root in 
winds ; 
But do not trust your thoughts to Providence. 
Their soil is in humanity, nor there 
Spring, grow, or ripen without husbandry. 

Beatrix. He talked and argued ■ 

Diego. Oh, to talk the truth 

Is easy as to breathe. To live the truth, 
And, mailed in its pure radiance, burn to black 
The shade its white heat severs, needs a strength 
To suffer hatred and inspire to love, 
Half hell's, half heaven's, and wholly Christ's.*' 

Beatrix. You think 

That we shall see him here? 

Diego. Why yes, I think 

That they will find him ; if so, bring him back. 
He would not miss a meeting with the queen. 

Beatrix. You say she lunches with the monks to- 
day? 

Diego. I heard so, yes — 

{Pointing toward Left Side Rear. ) 

And look you — she is coming. 

Beatrix. I have some faith in her. 

Diego. Faith always waits 

Beatrix. Why — in a friend 

Diego. Is easy, yes ; make friends, etc. 

^3 Beatrix. And yet 

If others go 

Diego. So far off is the goal. 



20B COLUMBUS. 

On perfect womanhood. Show men a form 
Whose outward symmetry of nature frames 
A symmetry of soul, whose pure-hued face 
Complexions pureness of the character, 
Whose clear sweet accents outlet clear, sweet 

thought, 
Whose burning eyes flash flame from kindled 

love, 
And all whose yielding gracefulness of mien 
But fitly robes all grace-moved sympathy, — 
Ay, find a soul whose beauty of the shield 
But keeps more bright the blade of brain because 
Of what seems merely ornament, — to her 
All men will yield a spirit's loyalty. 
The fairy-goddess of the world of fact. 
Dream-sister of the brotherhood of deed, 
An angel minister as well as queen, 

And so unseen, that all but faith will fail ; 

And this they lack. 
Beatrix. But yet, you told him, too, 

You thought it vain to leave here. 
Diego. Feared it vain. 

But you, you urged him to submit, not sail, 

Nor push his claims upon the king. 
Beatrix. Of course. 

Diego. Poor, lonely man ! 
Beatrix. His own fault — would not have 

A soul go with him. 
Diego. Why should he ? To minds 

In which the spirit so subdues the sense, 



COLUMBUS. 209 

The splendor of her station lifts her high. 
But like the sun that she may light us all. 

Enter — Left Side Rear — the Queen ^/z^ Attendants, 
among them St. Angel. 
Enter — at the same time — at Right Side 
throttgh the convenfs gateway, Monks, 
among them Perez, behifid them Sanchez 
and Columbus. 
Perez {to the Queen to whom all do reverence). 

We feel much honored by your presence 
Queen. Nay, 

You are the ministers of higher power. 
The honor comes to me. 
Beatrix {to Diego in the rear). 

Look there — your brother. 
Diego. So they have found him. 
Beatrix. Hark — they speak of him. 

A lack of sympathy itself is absence, 
Beatrix. But you will join him ? 
Diego. Like a faithful slave 

Whom word, not thought, commands. 
Beatrix. Why should not I go ? 

Diego. You could not live contented with a man 

With no home either for himself or you. 

He must have told you this. 
Beatrix. Home seems a state, 

Not place. 
Diego. A state of happiness, and that 

He knows he could not give you. 
Beatrix. Do you think, etc. 



2IO COLUMBUS. 

Perez. Your majesty, your couriers have re- 
turned. 

They found the Mariner. 
Queen. Yes, and where ? 

Perez. Far up 

The mountains, just beside the boundary. 
Queen. Alone ? 
Perez. Alone. 

{^Introducing Columbus.) The Mariner. 
(Columbus salutes the Queen.) 
Queen (to Columbus). As I hoped. 

And you were leaving us \ 
Columbus. I was. 

Queen. Why so ? 

Columbus. I have an aim in life. 

(Beatrix, in her gestures towards Diego, to 
which she tries to attract the attention of 
Columbus, expresses disapproval of his 
answers which follow here.) 

Queen. I thought the king 

Had promised ships. 
Columbus. He had. 

Queen. And officers. 

Columbus. Not those for such an undertaking. 
Queen. You 

Can go with them. 
Columbus. Your pardon, but — I beg — 

Excuse me. 



COLUMBUS. 211 

Queen. Why? 

Columbus. I have no time to waste. 

Queen. To waste? 

Columbus. Full eighteen years ago I first 

Made known my plan. I am no longer young. 

Queen. Why, ships and men, and you to sail with 
them! 

Columbus. Sail off, sail back — I have no time to 
waste. 

Queen. You think they would not persevere? 

Columbus. The goal 

Is not of their discerning. — Why should they 
Be thought the ones to bring it to the light? 

Queen. But they 

Columbus. To them it seems a madman's whim, 
A thing to flout; — to me the one conception 
Of all that is most rational and holy. 
Which, then, would give his life that it might 
live ? 

Queen. Why, we had hopes that none would need 
do that. 

Columbus. And hopes well based ; yet any man 
who sails 
Across that unknown sea must have far more 
Than enterprise, experience, caution, skill. 
Knowledge of sail and compass, wind and stan 
The soul must be embarked upon the voyage 
With aims outreaching all that but concern 
The narrow limits of this earthly life. 



212 COLUMBUS. 

Queen. How few such men ! Where would you 

find your crew? 
Columbus. Wherever minds are subject to ideas. 
Queen. And where is that ? — You judge men by 

yourself. 
Columbus. I would not dare to boast such differ- 
ence, 

Or so humiliate my humanity, 

As to presume it possible that aims 

Inspiring my own soul, if rightly urged, 

Would not inspire, too, many another. 
Queen. Yes, 

I can believe it, with yourself to urge them. 

And were you given command, would you collect 

A crew and sail with them ? 
Columbus. No man can reach 

A problem's right solution, if he fail 

To calculate aright the means. 
Queen. Of course — 

And that 

Columbus. Has not been done in this case. 
Queen. No ? 

What more would you require ? 
Columbus. Ten times the sum 

That has been promised. 
Queen. Ten times? — ten times that 

Is not in all the treasury. 
Columbus. I would give 

The whole I have — both property and life. 



COLUMBUS. 213 

Sanchez. And I. 

Queen. You would? — Yet rich! 

Sanchez. I would. 

Diego {coming forward and bowing before the Queen). 

And I, 
Though I have nothing — only what you see. 

St. Angel. Your Majesty, with men like these, 
preparing 
To root their very spirits out from earth, 
That they may thus transplant them w^here the 

world 
Will reap a richer fruitage, what were Spain, 
Were she to grudge a void from which were 

scraped 
A paltry heap of gold! All were too mean 
To pedestal aright the lasting fame 
That would be hers, did they attain their end. 

Queen. How true ! — and yet the royal treasury 

St. Angel. Are there no treasures elsewhere than 
in that t 

Queen {Jiesitating a moment). 

There are. If I be queen, let me be queen 
Of Spain's rich spirit as of Spain's rich soil. 
I will — there is a treasure. — What to Spain 
Are her most precious treasures, that star most 
The crown that they surround with living light ? 
Mere jewels, think you? — Nay, not these, but men. 
And if I give the one to gain the other, who 
Could strike a better bargain ? Ay, I will — • 



214 COLUMBUS, 

I pledge you the crown jewels of Castile. 
I pledge you the commandership. Enough ! 
When ready, you shall go. 
Columbus (^falling on his knees before her). 

God bless the queen. 
{The others fall on their knees beside Columbus.) 

Curtain. End of Act II. 



COLUMBUS. 215 



ACT THIRD. 

Scene First. — A street in Palos de Moguer, in Anda- 
lusia. Backings a distant harbor^ with ships. At 
the Rights a porch before the house of Beatrix. At 
the Left, other houses. Entrances^ Right Side Rear, 
behind the house of Beatrix ; Right Side Second, 
through a door opening from this house onto the 
porch in front of it ; Right Side Front, throicgh the 
street in front of this house ; Left Side Rear and 
Front, through streets, 

{The curtain rising discloses Columbus and Beatrix, 
standing on or near the porch Y"^ 

Beatrix. I cannot bear to have you sail ! 

Columbus. Nor I 

To leave you. 



^Columbus. Now I must off, and see the ships. 
You know 
How long I have been gone. 

Beatrix. You met the queen ? 

Columbus. And king, and got their last instruc- 
tions, 

Beatrix. Oh, etc. 



2l6 COLUMBUS. 

Beatrix. Yet " how can you ? 

Columbus. I have told you ! — 

What moves me seems beyond all conscious 
thought ; 

Seems like the lure that leads the summer bird 

Southward when comes the fall. It is enough, 

It is my destiny. I weigh it well, 

And find it rational; yet why I first 

Conceived it as I do, I cannot tell. 

Enter — Left Side Rear — Diego. 

Diego (to himself^ as he looks at Beatrix). Like 
all the other women in the town, 

*5 Beatrix. Yet 

Columbus. I must. 

Beatrix. Oh, yes, you must ! 

Columbus. Our hves are finite, but the aims of 
life 
Are infinite, and crowd on every side. 
Whate'er we strive to reach, in thought, in 

deed, 
At last, some one aim surely tips the scales ; 
As it has weight, its rivals are thrown up. 
Beatrix. Yes, even she who loves you. 
Columbus. I had hoped. 

Now that my project seems, at last, afloat, 
That your soul would be buoyant as is mine. 
Beatrix. Yes, yes, but yet can it be worth the 

price ? 
Columbus. I know your meaning, — loss of life, 
perhaps, 



COLUMBUS. 217 

Is leagued to keep him back, eh? It is not 
In nature that a man obey a woman. 
And human ways, when not in nature, bode 
Inhuman tampering somewhere. He should know 
That none can turn to she the pronoun he 
Without an s that puts a hiss before it. 

^To Columbus.) 
My brother? 

Columbus (to Diego). Ay? 

Diego. Have business (Diego and Beatrix bow 
to each other). 



And all for which some prize life, — ease and love. 
But, — ah, who would not feel it is worth this ? — 
And others go with me who think the same. 

Beatrix. Some call them fools 

Columbus. Some ? — where ? 

Beatrix. In all the streets. 

Columbus. Here ? 

Beatrix. Yes. 

Columbus. They are fools, if this life be all ; 
And fools, if they but claim that it is all. 
For, risking dangers thick as mid-sea-mists 
In war, in wave, men's deeds outdo their words 
And prove they serve a grander sovereignty, 
Whose realms outreach all death-lines. 

Beatrix. Is it these 

You seek in that cloud-circled, storm-set sea? 
Ah, how can I let them out-price your life ? — 
Or how can you ? 

Columbus. So often I have told you ! — etc. 



2l8 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. I know it — (to Beatrix), 

Will find you later. Now, you will excuse me. 
Exit — Right Side Second — into her house, Beatrix. 
Diego. You should have come before. That 
woman's gowns 

Are always clinging to you^ — look as if 

She thought to make a woman of yourself. 

Confound their sex! 
Columbus. Not all now ! There are some — — 
Diego. Some men too; but in all of Spain, not six 

To man your vessels of their own free will. 

Why not? — Because not fit to go with you. 

How many women, think you, fit for it ? ** 
Columbus. You talk as if you feared for me. 
Diego. I fear 

For all the expedition. Have you heard 

The news ? 



*® Columbus. Be not so hard on them. 
Diego. No, they are soft, 

More soft than cats, and mew, too, ay and 

scratch. 
Have seen their blisters ! ay, have seen a man 
Whose very soul had been scratched out by 
one. 

*' Diego. As if 

The howlings of their wives and mothers here 
About their ears, could bring them less of hell 
Than howlings of the wind upon the sea ! 



COLUMBUS, 219 

Columbus. What is it? 

Diego. Nothing that is good. 

Columbus. The ships are 

Diego. Floating. You may thank the guards. 

The crews have all deserted. 
Columbus. What ?— *' But yet 

The government 

Diego. Yes, they have sent around 

Arresting some, imprisoning others. You 

Will hav^e your crew; for they have found a 
source 

Beyond exhausting. 
Columbus. What is that? 

Diego. The jail, 

Which, like an Arab- shirt turned inside out, 

Will shake its lice upon you. 
Columbus. That, at least, 

Will give us men. 



Columbus. The women have persuaded them to break 

Their word with us ? 
Diego. Why, yes. Who else would, eh ? 

What woman ever cared about her word — 

Her own word or her husband's ? Bless her jaws ! 

They have so many words, why care for one word ? 
Columbus. Oh, waive the women ! Is it true the 
crews 

Have all deserted ? 
Diego. Almost all. 

Columbus. But yet, etc. 



220 COLUMBUS. 

Diego. If you can call them men.*® 

What can you ever do with such as these 
When three months out at sea? 

Columbus. I shall depend 

Upon my officers. 

Diego. You know them then? 

You never know a coward soul till cowed 
By gusts out- winding his own self-conceit; 
And garbs they guise in, never cloud the air 
In time for us to brace the fence they fell. 
I would that I were going with you. 

Columbus. No; 

All that we settled. One should stay behind 

To guard our interests here. 

Enter — Left Side Rear — Gutierrez. 

Diego. And will be needed 

Far more than you could guess. This officer 
Will tell you, — is the one has been in charge. 

Gutierrez {exchanging salute with Columbus). 
Are glad to see you. Senior. 

Columbus. Thanks. 

The ships are safe and ready? 

Gutierrez. Guarded, Senior, 

All night, all day. Some men here took an oath, 
Perhaps you know, to scuttle them. 

Columbus. They did ? 

*^ These creatures, whom a life-long fear of light 
Has trained for treachery stabbing in the dark ; 
Sneaks, too irresolute and indolent 



COLUMBUS. 221 

But they have not succeeded. 
Gutierrez. No, of course. 

We always guard a ship, when once impressed 

For royal services, like treasure. Still 

They came within an inch of it. 
Columbus. How so? 

Gutierrez. We thought that Breviesca was your 

friend. 
Columbus. Quite otherwise, I fear. 
Gutierrez. And I, but yet, 

As agent of Fonseca, Bishop of 

Columbus. O, worse and worse! The bishop, I 
believe. 

Would be assured that only truth had triumphed, 

If I and all the crew were drowned. 
Gutierrez. Ah, so? 

Well, they have tried it. 
Columbus. What? 

Gutierrez. To have you drowned. 

Columbus. You mean? — 

Gutierrez. Tried to corrupt the calkers. 

Columbus. No! — 

Are sure of that? 
Gutierrez. I overheard. 

Columbus. Good God! — 

This man Breviesca? 

To push by worthy means to worthy ends. 
But I would trust in waves adrift for hell 
As much as in a rudder held by knaves. 
What can you ever do with such as these, etc. 



222 COLUMBUS, 

Gutierrez. It was he. 

Columbus. And you?- 

Gutierrez. We turned the calkers off; and had 
a task 

Impressing other. That performed, we put 

A soldier back of every one to calk 

His pores with steel unless he calked the ships'. 
Columbus. They now are ready? 
Gutierrez. All things ready, Senior. 

Columbus. We sail to-morrow, then. 
Gutierrez. Meantime, perhaps — 

Your pardon — you will hold yourself unseen? 
Columbus. Why so? 
Gutierrez. To save a conflict with the mob. 

Columbus. You mean that 

Gutierrez. They might keep you here by force; 

*® Diego. Why, very victims burning at the stake 
Could never cause a cloud more black than seems 
To hang above the town to-day. 

5** Diego. Of course. A man but in his public 
thought 
Antiphonals the public sentiment. 
A woman does it in her private thought ; 
And woe to lovers who dare say their say 
Without a little clique that, echoing it, 
Can make it seem, at least, a little public. 
Columbus. But can you blame her — 
Diego. Trend to fashion ? No. 

You flaunt the flag of fashion in a crowd 
And, in the bee-line of their rush to tail 



COLUMBUS. 22' 

Or sacrifice your life, and readily, 
To save their friends, — the friends they deem are 
doomed." 
Columbus. Your hint has value. I will join you 

soon. 
Exit — Left Side Rear — Gutierrez, after saluting. 
Columbus continues to Diego. 
So so ! You note what influenced Beatrix.'" 
Find Pinzon — Perez — Say we sail at dawn. 
Diego. I will. 

Exit — Right Side Front — Diego. 

Columbus {to himself^ looking toward the Left^ then 

at the house of Beatrix). 

I ought 
To say a word more here." 
Enter — Right Side Rear Breviesca, accompanied 
by a Citizen. 

Its leading, one could pick the women out 
Without their having skirts on. 

Columbus. I must send 

For Pinzon. He expects me at his house. 

Diego. Let me go. 

Columbus. Thanks, and say that I must wait, 
And meet him at the ships. Find Perez too, 
And tell him that we sail at dawn, and wish 
The sacrament. You say that we will use 
The little chapel there beside the dock. 

^' When courtesy 
And caution balance in the scales, the heart 
Is kinder than the head, if not more wise. 



224 COLUMBUS. 

Breviesca (stepping between Columbus and the house 
of Beatrix). 

Good day. 
Columbus. Ah ! Senior Breviesca ! 

Breviesca. I 

Would speak to you. 
Columbus. You have your wish. 

Breviesca. I bring 

An invitation from the bishop. 
Columbus. Which — 

Fonseca ? 
Breviesca. Yes. 

Columbus. And where is he ? 

Breviesca. Why, at 

The monastery. 
Columbus. On the other side 

The town, not so? — What would he with me? 
Breviesca. Talk 

About the mission that the church has planned. 

^2 Breviesca. Is right, though ! — Is no Spaniard ; 
no — a dog 
Of Genoa — no Christian — a (Z\m.'s,-chien. 
Columbus. My work the queen has ordered. I 

should do it. 
Breviesca {laughing and pointing to the house of 
Beatrix). 
Yes, yes, the queen of hearts. 
Citizen. A pretty game ! 

Queen taken by a knave. 



COLUMBUS, 225 

Columbus. These matters have been all arranged. 
Breviesca. But he 

Would see you. 
Columbus. He can see me at my ship. 
Breviesca. His work prevents. 
Columbus. Then give him my regrets. 

Breviesca. But he demands your presence. 
Columbus. I am not 

Within his jurisdiction. 
Citizen Ho ! hear that.^'* 

Columbus. My answer has been given. 
Citizen. Frightened eh ? — 

Aha ! — would get behind the soldiers there. 
{^Pointing toward the ships and harbor at the Left.y^ 
Breviesca {approaching Columbus «j if to lay his 
hand on him). 

Say, will you go with me ? — I think you will. 



Columbus. It might be well 

To imitate the mien of gentlemen. 
Breviesca. And you of Christians, and obey the 
bishop. 

^^ Columbus. A man who lives for others, not for 
self, 
Has little fear for self ; yet care for them 
May give him caution. I have weighty reasons 
For keeping eyes upon the ships. 
Citizen {sarcastically and looking significantly at 
Breviesca). 

Oh, yes ! 



226 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus (knocki?tg Breviesca down). 

Yes, yes, when down there with you, then I will. 
Enter— Left 5/^^— Gutierrez with two Soldiers. 
Enter- — Right Side Front — Diego. 
Exit — Right Side Rear — Citizen. 
Diego. What is it? 

Columbus. I am practicing, you see — ■ 

On criminals. — That man there set a trap. 
But it takes two to make a trap work. He, 
He was a genius, this man, played both roles. 
He set it and was caught in it. 
Exit — Right Side Rear — Breviesca, crawling anx- 
iously away. 
Diego and Gutierrez start to follow and arrest him. 
Columbus motions them back with his hand. 

No no ! 
Diego. And you, my brother? Such a patient 

man ? 
Columbus. Oh, patient! When a fire has been 
kept in 
For eighteen years, blame not its blazing out. 
Thank God it did not wholly blast the fool 
Whose fumbling fouled it — thought it had no life. 
The villain ! if I only could be sure 
He would be better for the punishment ! 
Diego. You go now to the ships ? 
Columbus. Yes, very soon. 

Gutierrez. Shall I go with you ? 



COLUMBUS. 227 

Columbus {ascending the porch of the house of 
Beatrix). Wait here if you choose. 
But yet, of all men taught the lesson, I 
By this time should have learned to go alone. 
Exit — Right Side Front — Diego. 
Exit — Right Side — through the porch — Columbus. 
Gutierrez motions to the soldiers as if setting a guard 
about the hoicse of Beatrix. 
Exit — Right Side Front — one Soldier. 
Exeunt — Right Side Rear — other Soldier and Guti- 
errez. 



Scene Second — The deck of the ship of 
Columbus. Backings sky and sea; at 
firsts invisible^ because it is night ; later 
visible^ as at sunrise ; and, if thought best, 
representing, in a panorama, a gradual 
approach of the ships to shore, the scenery 
moving from Right to Left. At the right 
is the bow of the ship. At the left, a 
cabin with a deck above it, on which Sailors 
can stand. There are also masts, sails, 
and various arrangements which will 
readily suggest themselves as appropriate, 
ropes, railiiigs, etc. 

Entrances — Left Side Rear — and— Left Side 
Front — on each side of the cabin ; — Left 
Side Second — into the cabin, as well as fust 



228 COLUMBUS, 

above the cabin on to the upper deck. 
Right Center — through a hatchway into 
the ship'' s hold. 
RoLDAN appears at the bow of the ship, Escobar 
near him, and Pintor nearer the cabin. 
Other Sailors also are present. 
RoLDAN {looking off through the dark). Oh, I am 

sick of this. 
PiNTOR. And I. 

Escobar. You wait. 

Another storm will make you sicker still. 
Pintor. If it would only sicken him. 
RoLDAN. Make him 

Throw up, eh? 
PiNTOR. Yes, throw up the voyage. 

Escobar. That 

Will come in time. But when it comes, my 

lad, 
The ship will throw up us too." 
PiNTOR. That it will. 

RoLDAN. What means it all ? — those weeks with- 
out a stir 

'* Pintor. I know now 

How fish feel when they see the water boil, 
Just when we drop them in alive. 

Escobar. Are not 

More out their element than we are here. 
With these few planks between — then purgatory. 

Pintor. Nor any more sure, either, to be cooked. 

RoLDAN. What means, etc. 



COLUMBUS. 229 

Amid the waves, and then those heavy swells 
Without a stir amid the winds? 
Escobar, What means it? — 

Why, like enough our ship is near the place 
Where all the waters pour down hill. 
RoLDAN. You mean 

The edge? 
Escobar. Why not? — In streams you always find 
Smooth, rapid water, waves, and then the plunge. 
RoLDAN. Is quiet now. 
Escobar. So is a cataract 

Just where it nears the brink." 
RoLDAN (looking for approval to Pintor and other 
Sailors, who nod to him in confirmation of 
what he says. ) 

Yes, we have heard — 
Escobar. You have? — Then you are all a set of 

fools. 
Pintor. I know it; but it never was our fault. 
Escobar. Not? — Whose? 

Pintor. The government's. It forced us here. 
Escobar. We were not kept here by it. What 
does that 

" RoLDAN. The holy dame ! 

Do you believe ?— 
Escobar. There must have been some cause. 

What was it ? There was not a wind, 
Pintor. And when 

There was, ten times to one time it blew west. 



230 COLUMBUS. 

Is one man's will, and he a lunatic,*® 
PiNTOR. A man should use his reason. Are we 

brutes ? 
Escobar. No ; — worse than brutes when he comes. 
Brutes, at times, 
To save their lives, will turn upon a man. 
But we — five score to one, but all afraid 
To call our souls our own. Let him appear. 

No wind like that will ever speed us home. 
Escobar, And what wind think you will, or can? 
ROLDAN. Or can ? 

Escobar. Humph ! let him keep on here, a day 
or two, 

These floating weeds will hold us like a vise. 
RoLDAN. He calls them signs of land. 
Escobar. Oh, yes, of land ! — 

That fatal land afloat in fatal seas 

Entrapping in their meshes all the ships 

That dare to venture near. 

^^ RoLDAN. How did he ever gain the ear of Spain ? 

Escobar. By talking. Most men's thoughts are 
led, you know, 
In trains of their own talking. Talk them down, 
They lose their leader. Keep on talking then, 
They find in you another. Any sound 
You choose to make, they take for sense. Why 

not? 
That course has grown to be their habit. 

PiNTOR. Oh, 

Yet not through talk or thought he deals with us, 
But force. 



COLUMBUS. 231 

We fly like cry-girls froQi a buzzing bug 

One touch could crush in no time. 
RoLDAN. But the court 

Has clothed him with authority. 
Escobar. Mere sheep 

Would not be driven by another sheep 

Though clothed in bear-skin, could they only hear 



Escobar. And he will find before he dies 

That men accept one's estimate of them. 
If he esteem them thinkers, give them thought, 
They turn to him like thinking beings ; but 
If he esteem them brutes, and give them force, 
They turn upon him like a brute. 

RoLDAN. Should we, 

Ourselves ? 

Escobar, Why not ? — if he deserve it? 

ROLDAN. But 

If we should mutiny, and then go home — 

Escobar. The choice is not between this place 
and home ; 
No, but the bottom of the sea and land. 
And other lands are fertile as are Spain's. 

RoLDAN. You own no wife and children ! 

Escobar. Humph, that means 

My life is not behind me, but before — 
With precious little left of it, and this — 
How much is time here worth, if in it all 
We live but slaves, and never know of good times ? 
The man who squeezes these all out our life — 
Wrings our last sweat-drop out to serve himself, — 



232 COLUMBUS, 

His old familiar bleat." 
PiNTOR. What right has he 

To gem and offset Genoese mastership 

By making slaves of Spaniards ? 
RoLDAN. That was what 

They asked at home ! 
Escobar. What they will ask again, 

If we sail home without him. 
PiNTOR. That they will.'' 

RoLDAN. Man, you will have us hung for murder 

yet. 
Escobar. Oh, there is many a way to kill a 
cat. 

The best I know is drowning. Nights are dark. 



. He has 

PiNTOR. A vampire's care for us. 
Escobar. What he 

Cares for is notoriety, which means 

The bulge of contrast. Crush and hush your kind, 

And you are seen and heard. 
PiNTOR. Yes, you are right. 

A man should use, etc. 

^■^ RoLDAN. And yet you know 

He has the power 

Escobar, Because we give it him, 

Who whine, — whine merely like a set of babes, 

Too weak to lift a finger for ourselves. 

Roldan. The King 

Escobar. Is all divine ! I grant it ; ay, 



COLUMBUS. 233 

And one may slip against a man, and he, 
When slipped against, may stumble overboard. 
If so, he drowns — but how? — he drowns himself. 
RoLDAN. Hark! — He is coming! — Down — and 
clear from this. 
Exeunt — Right Center — Roldan, Pintor, 
Escobar and other Sailors. 
Enter — Left Side Second — Columbus. 
Columbus {to himself). 

He comes on plotting. — That is plain enough. 
How form and face — mere garments that they 

are — 
Will siss and wrinkle to a twist of thought 1 — 
Fools ! — Yet without fools, where were sovereignty 



What else could ever pick out, plying but 
A random sword, and prick and pin in place 
As many Spanish cowards as are here ? 
Pintor. Yes, cowards all ! What right, etc. 

^^ What man of station in the land would not 
Be glad to hear that he had failed ? 

Escobar. And all 

The rest will see that those who sailed beyond 
All others on a sea like this, have done 
The whole that Spain could ask. 

Roldan. And still— 

Escobar, As if 

It were not right, when in a madman's hands. 
To use our reason, and resist him. 

Pintor. Yes. 



234 COLUMBUS. 

For wise men? — they would find it harder work 
To do earth's thinking for it; harder work 
To string the nerves that center in one's brain 
Through all the mass, and rein it to one's will.— 
Can I do this with these men? or must I, 
I who have given all these years to it, 
Ay, and my young love too, my life, my all,-— ■ 
Must I turn back? — I will not, though they kill me. 

{^Looking at paper in his hand.) 
These reckonings give seven hundred fifty leagues. 
How wise to make my false log for the crew! 
This now has passed six hundred; but without it 
I might have had more trouble. In the time 
I served King Renier, and went off to take 
The galley Fernandina; and my crew, 
In fright to hear two ships were guarding her, 
Had turned our helm, and thought we flew away; 
Ah, how I steered straight for her in the night! 
And fought her at the dawn! — So act I here. 
We men who think have duties due our kind. 
One duty is, to block their finding out 
What are our thoughts. Yes, they may learn too 

much. 
The truth is not a plaything for a babe. 
Truth is a gem, and sometimes needs encasing. 
Yet, if we sail on long, the day will come 
When our true distance will be known. — What, 

then? 
What then? 



COLUMBUS. 235 

Voices {beyond Left Side Rear). He shall turn back ! 

He shall ! Will make him. 
Columbus. Hark ! hark ! — turn back ? They dare 
speak out like that ? 
Oh, what a cruel destiny is mine 
To unfulfillment doom'd, if I do not 
What even heaven itself has never done, — 
Give patience to a world of restlessness ! 
Oh, God, I think I serve thee. Give me power 
To calm these minds, as Christ could calm the 
sea. 
Enter — Left Side Rear — Escobar, Roldan, Pin- 
tor, Sanchez, Gutierrez, and others. 
Well, what is wrong? 
Escobar. We came to tell you, Senior, 

We think it time that we turn back. 
Columbus. Turn back? 

A strange idea that! 
Several. Oh, strange! 

Columbus. Why yes. 

With what we saw to-day — the herbs and 
flowers. 
PiNTOR. Humph! they were seen before, 
Columbus. But not the same — 

Not fresh and green ; and then the small shore- 
fish 
And birds too, birds of kinds that never sleep, 
Nor light, except on land — the singing birds 
That perched upon our mast. 



236 COLUMBUS, 

Escobar. If there were land — 

Three times it has been called — we now have 
passed it. 
Columbus. We may be in a bay. 
Escobar. You would not steer 

As Captain Pinzon wished. 
Columbus. The birds all flew 

This other way. I thought them flying home. 
PiNTOR. We are not birds. 

Escobar. Are going home though. 

RoLDAN. Yes. 

Columbus. A pleasant swim! The ship is going 

on. 
Several. No, no. 

Columbus. Why, men, you said the same 

before. 

Have you forgot how many of you cried, 

Ay, cried, in fear of burning skies above 

The Teneriffe volcano? — and I said 

It would not harm you. Did it? Then shot by 

Those meteors ; and I said they too would pass. 

Did I mistake? Then tireless western winds; 

But east winds turned them. Then a glassy sea; 

But billows broke it. Then came signs of land; 

And now they multiply, as I had hoped. 

If right, so far, then I have earned your trust. 
Escobar. Ugh! Those are old tales now. 
Several. Yes. 

Columbus. Let them be. 



COLUMBUS. 237 

The land toward which we sail is not unknown; 
Those who have seen it say, that all the gold 
In all of Europe grouped and fused to make 
A single mass, would hardly form one cliff 
Of endless mountain ranges that are there. 

RoLDAN. Hear that now ! 

Columbus. They would be enough to make 

A lord, at home, of every one of you 
Without the title ; but, think you, the court, 
The courtiers, would not wish you this besides ? 
You, who had burned through unknown darkness 
here 

More brilliantly than comets through the sky ? 

I mean it, for the trail you leave behind 
Will write in deathless light around the world 
The endless glory of our Christian Spain. 

RoLDAN and Others. Yes, yes. 

Escobar. No, no, come on ! 

{Moving toward Columbus, and urging others to do 
the same). 

PiNTOR {to RoLDAN and those who hold back). Ay, 
you are pledged. 
Lay hands upon him. Make him yield. 

Columbus {as Escobar ^(f/i- near him). 

Stand back. 
I represent the king. 

Escobar. And we your slaves? 

Columbus. Far better so than slaves to one 
another. 



238 ' COLUMBUS. 

Lay hands on me, not I alone will have 

A score of masters. Look you to your mates. 

You pledged yourselves to stand together? 

What?— 
Have you, or you, no foe in all this crew? 
And now you place your life in that foe's hands? 
When all he needs to raise himself in Spain 
Is to speak truth of you, — you think he will not? 
Ay, kill me, drown me, I shall be avenged. 
When bad men band, then traitors fill the camp; 
And, if a fair foe fail, the foul will not, 
For in that fight are God and devil both. 
RoLDAN. Humph! I must not be found here. 

{Turning away with others). 
PiNTOR. No, nor I. 

Columbus {aside). At last the tide has turned. 
Heaven help me now. 

{to the sailors). 
I thought that I had officers and men 
Too manly to see one man stand alone, — 
That some would stand beside me. Was I 
wrong ? 
Sanchez. No. 
Gutierrez. No. 

(RoLDAN and those with him come beside 
Sanchez and Gutierrez. They approach 
Columbus. EscoBAR/^//i- bacJi). 
Columbus. I thank you, men. I hoped as much. 
And now — why you are my brave crew again ; — 



COLUMBUS. 2^g 

Have been so brave, I could not bear to think 
That you could fail of perfect victory — 
Here, too, almost in sight. How you would feel 
When, after that next voyage — which now we 

know 
That some one else would make, did we go 

home — 
You saw the wreaths and wealth that you alone 
Had really won, deck other heads and hands! 
Sanchez. Well asked! 
RoLDAN. Ay, ay. 

Columbus. You had forgotten this. 

Well, now let us forget what just has happened. 
You know, men, that the same ship holds us all; 
And all that comes to you must come to me. 
RoLDAN. It must. 

Columbus. Then let the matter rest. Enough ! 

Now to your places. 

Exeunt — Left Side Front — Left Side Rear — 
and Right Center — all except Columbus, 
who watches them for a moment, then con- 
tinues speaking to himself 

One more crisis passed ! 
How many further 1 — Lord, how long ! how long ! 
{Kneels a moment, then rises and looks off over the sea?) 
Because a soul will gaze at darkness thus, 
It does not prove he sees — mere habit. Ah ! 

{A slightly moving light appears through the 



240 COLUMBUS. 

curtain backing at the Right ^ and another 
steady light at the Left slightly different 
from the first. Columbus looks at the 
first) 
What light is that? — It cannot be the Pinta's? 

{^Looking at the light at the Left) . 
No : it sails there — and yet — I thought — why yes. 

{Looking to the Left). 
The Nina is behind too. — Yet this light — 
(Looking again at the light at the Right). 
It cannot be a star ! — Am I deceived ? 
(JBeckofiing to Left Side Rear) 
Come this way, please, Don Gutierrez. 
Enter — Left Side Rear — Gutierrez. 
Gutierrez. Ay. 

Columbus {pointing toward the Right Back). 

Can you see anything off there ? 
Gutierrez. Why yes— 

The Pinta. 
Columbus {pointing to the Left Back). No, is 

here. 
Gutierrez. Humph! so it is. 

The Nina is ahead, then? 
Columbus {pointing to Left). No, look back. 
Gutierrez. Yet some ship's light. 
Columbus. It could not be a star? 

Gutierrez. How could it be? 



COLUMBUS. 241 

Columbus. The Inspector there: ask him. 

Inspector ? 
{Calling to some one beyond Left Side Front). 
Enter — Left Side Front — Sanchez. 
Sanchez. Senior ? 
Columbus {fainting to the Right Back). 

Can you see that Hght ? 
Sanchez. Where ? 

Columbus. There, beyond the Pinta's. 

Sanchez. Yes. I thought 

The Nina was behind us. 
Columbus {fainting to the Left). 

So she is. 
Sanchez. What ? can another ship have sailed off 

here ? 
Columbus. Another ship, eh t Watch it further. 

Gutierrez. Why, 

I think it moves. 
Sanchez. It does ! 

Columbus. Not up and down 

As if on waves, but to and fro ? 
Gutierrez. Just so ! 

Columbus. And some long distance to and fro. 

{The light makes this motion?) 
Sanchez. Shall call 

The others ? 
Columbus. No, not yet, no false alarm r 

Gutierrez. You think it land ? 
Columbus {nodding). Inhabited by men. 



242 COLUMBUS. 

Gutierrez. By men? — Good God! 
Columbus. Yes, you may well say good. 

Gutierrez. I think I see what seems a line of surf. 
Columbus. Perhaps. If so, the Pinta nears it. 
Wait! 
Is almost daybreak. We shall hear her gun. 
Sanchez. Your order that a false report would rob 
The starter of a chance to take the prize 
To be given the first one who discovers land, 
Will keep the signal back till they are sure. 
Columbus. Best so ! If blind men all were born 
blind, none 
Were cursed by losing sight. In nights like this, 
Not unawakened hope I dread, as much 
As wakening disappointment. 

( The report of a gun is heard. ) 

What? so soon? 
Sanchez. It must be true ! 
Columbus. No doubt of it ! 

Gutierrez. No, none. 

{The stage is gradually becoming brighter 
with the approaching dawn. Voices of the 
Sailors are heard^ 
Columbus. The sailors ! I must go now. You 
receive them ; 
And wait till I return. An hour as grand 
As this one should be welcomed fittingly. 
Exit — Left Side Second — into the cabin, Columbus. 
Enter — Right Center — from the hold, Escobar, Rol- 
DAN, Pintor, and others. 



COLUMBUS. 243 

* Enter — Left Side Rear — others. 
(RoLDAN rushes to the Rights and gazes towards 
where the light was first seen.^ 
Escobar. A false report, of course ! 

PiNTOR. Of course, but then-^ 

RoLDAN. Good heavens, it is true! 

Escobar. True? 

RoLDAN. There is land. 

Escobar. It cannot be. 

RoLDAN. It is. Look there. 

Pin TOR {contemptuously, after looking not exactly 

where Roldan points). A cloud. 
RoLDAN. Cloud? No, As clear as daylight, man. 

Dry land. 
Escobar. It is, hurrah ! 
PiNTOR. You think so? 

Escobar. Are you blind? 

Is no mistake, it is land! 

{to the other Sailors). 

Boys, hurrah ! 
Sailors. Land, land ! 
Roldan. No doubt of it ! 

Sailors. Hurrah ! 

They embrace each other and make wild demonstra- 
tions of delight^. 
Escobar {looking toward Left Side Second — and 
calling aloud). 
The admiral ! 
Roldan. Three cheers ! 



244 COLUMBUS. 

PiNTOR. The admiral ! 

RoLDAN. He does not know it yet ? 
Sanchez. Trust him for that. 

Sailors {shouting). 

The admiral ! Hurrah ! The admiral ! 
Sanchez. " All hail the Queen," now. That will 
fetch him. Sing. 

(All remove their caps and chant the following) : 

ALL HAIL THE QUEEN.* 

All hail the Queen. 
No thrills can fill the lover's breast 
For that first love he loves the best, 
Like ours that throb to each appeal 

Of her in whom, enthroned above 
The nation's heart, we see, we feel 

The symbol of the sway we love, 

The while we hail our Queen. 

All hail the Queen. 
No cause can rouse the soul of strife 
In men who war for child and wife. 
Like ours that, where her battles be, 

Know not of rest until above 
The foe that falls, enthroned we see 

The symbol of the sway we love, 

The while we hail our Queen. 

* " The crew were now assembled on the decks of the 
several ships, to return thanks to God for their prosperous 
voyage, and their happy discovery of land, chanting the Salve 
Regina and other anthems. Such was the solemn manner in 
which Columbus celebrated all his discoveries." (Irving's 
Columbus : Book VI., Chap. I.) 



COLUMBUS, 245 

All hail the Queen. 
No loyalty can make a son 
Show what a mother's love has done, 
Like ours who press through land and sea, 

Our one reward to find above 
Our gains that show what man can be, 

The symbol of the sway we love. 

The while we hail our Queen. 



( While this song is being sung, the scenery at the 
back of the stage moves from Right to Left, 
thus representing the gradual approach of 
the ship to land. Before the music ceases, 
Columbus appears in fell uniform on the 
Left above the cabin . He is clothed in scarlet. 
Behind him stands a standard-bearer hold- 
ing aloft the royal standard, and on either 
side of this, two others hold the banners of 
the enterprise, emblazoned with a green 
cross flanked by the letters F and V, the 
initials of Fernando and Isabel. {Irving' s 
Columbus. Book IV., Chap. I., also Book 
VI., Chap. I.) 

RoLDAN {catching sight of Columbus). 

See there ! 
Escobar. Ah, there he is. 
Sailors. Hurrah ! hurrah ! 

Escobar {shouting to Columbus). Ay, you were right. 

Were right! 
Roldan. As he is always! 



246 COLUMBUS. 

Escobar. I told you so. 
RoLDAN {aside to Escobar). 

You did ? — What time was that ? 
PiNTOR. The Admiral forever ! 

RoLDAN {aside to Pinto r). j 

Ay, since when ? 
{Shouting aloud). 
Let him remember who have been his friends. 
Escobar. Ay, that he will. 

RoLDAN. We knew you would succeed. 

Pintor. The greatest hour that Spain has ever 

known. 
Escobar. Gained through the greatest man that 
Spain has had. 

{To the Sailors.) 
Here, swear him your allegiance. Down, men, 
down. 

{All fall on their knees before Columbus.) 
Columbus. I thank you, men, both for myself and 
those 
Who sent us forth ; and join with you to swear 
Allegiance to our sovereigns — more than this, 

{Pointing to cross up07t the banner) ^ 
To that far higher Power that they too serve 
Whose emblem is inscribed upon our banner. 
In that we conquer. When we disembark 
Our hands will plant the cross just where we land. 
And now — you seem exultant — I confess 
To awe like that which Moses must have felt 



COLUMBUS, 247 

When God's own hand had touched him as it 

passed. 
I cannot stand — nay, let me kneel with you 
With praise, thanksgiving, and new-vowed devo- 
tion 

{They all kneel be7ieath the standard, and 
while the scenery, moving behind, represents 
the approach to land, after a few mo- 
ments of silence, except for the music of the 
orchestra, they chant the following : ) 



O God of all things living, 

Our Sovereign, Saviour, Guide, 
All gifts are of Thy giving. 
All gains by Thee supplied. 
The stars that make 
High aims awake 
Are but what Thine eye seest. 
The stroke and stress 
That earn success 
Are but what Thou decreest. 
O God of all things living, 

Our Sovereign, Saviour, Guide, 
All gifts are of Thy giving, 
All gains by Thee supplied. 

O God, all good bestowing 
On souls that seek Thy way, 

Our hearts, with joy o'erflowing, 
Give thanks to Thee to-day. 



248 COLUMBUS, 

In all the past 
Whose blessings last, 

Thy presence fills the story ; 
And all the gleams 
That gild our dreams 

Obtain from Thee their glory. 

O God, all good bestowing 
On souls that seek Thy way, 

Our hearts with joy o'erflowing, 
Give thanks to Thee to-day. 

Curtain. End of Act IIL 



COLUMBUS, 249 



ACT FOURTH. 



Scene First /^ — A room in a house in Spain. 
Entrances — Right Side and Left side. 
Enter — Left Side — Beatrix. 
Enter — Left Side — Columbus and Diego. 
Beatrix. Returned ? Thank God ! 
Columbus. Yes, God alone could do it. 

{to Diego, as voices are heard from without^ 
In pity for me, Diego, send them off ; 
And say that I to-night will tell them all. 
Exit — Right Side — Diego. 
{to Beatrix.) 
How fares our son, Fernando? 
Beatrix. Grown and strong. 

Is out just now — will not be back till noon. 
I thought you coming when I heard the noise. 
Columbus. Ah, yes, as I remember, when I left, 

I roused a noise too. 
Beatrix. You have roused one now 

That all the world will hear. 
Columbus. You never praise 

A wind, because it makes the sea-waves roar: 
It may be empty, and it may do harm. 
A man should judge men's noises at their worth. 

^^ In presentation, this entire scene may be omitted. 



250 COLUMBUS, 

Beatrix. To think I ever joined with them against 

you! 
Columbus. Why, what were woman's nature, void 
of fine 

Susceptibility on edge to play 

Society's deft weather-vane ? You know 

Society is like the atmosphere : 

Is always round us, and is all alike — 

All warm in sunshine and all chill in storm. 

And you — you did not see me at the time, 

Surrounded only by my friends. 
Beatrix. If you 

Had heard the talk ! 
Columbus. I heard too much of it. 

Beatrix. You found the land though ! 
Columbus. Yes, and such a land ! 

Beatrix. As fair as this ? 
Columbus. A land of endless May, 

And set in seas transparent as their skies ; 

Where every kind of spice, grain, fruit and flower 

Teems in green valleys that need not be tilled, 

All crowned on high by mounts, whose gold and 
gems 

Lie on the surface. 
Beatrix. And belong to you ! — 

What joy to feel that now it all is over ! 
Columbus. All never will be over in this world. 

The great care passes, but trails lesser cares 

That aggregate no less of worry. 



COLUMBUS, 251 

Beatrix. True ; 

But when the land was found 

Columbus. One ship was wrecked ; 

And twice returning, too, we all seemed lost. 

If so, the whole would have been lost that now 

Is found. 
Beatrix. And then ? 

Columbus. I vowed a pilgrimage, 

Wrote out our story. Like the wine it was, 

I sealed it in a cask, and let it float. 
Beatrix. But reached the land ! 
Columbus. Yes, first at the Azores 

As wet as fish, too. That was why, perhaps, 

The Portuguese there spread their nets for us, 

And not their tables. 
Beatrix. Nets ? 

Columbus. To trap us, yes. 

Beatrix. But why ? 
Columbus. To get our charts, resail our course, 

And claim the credit of it. 
Beatrix. They could not 

Have been successful. 
Columbus. Not if we had lived. 

Beatrix. But yet 

Columbus. No but ! Our ship was driven then 

To Portugal itself — by accident, 

Of course : a storm came on — and there the 
court 

Were soft as cats are, when they play with mice. 



252 COLUMBUS. 

The fur, though, did not wholly glove the 
claw, 

Nor cloak a plot to murder us. It failed. 

Instead, Francisco de Almeida sails. 

With secret orders from the envious court, 

To cross the sea, and make our gain his own. 
Beatrix. But Spain will right you, give you 

titles? — fame? 

Columbus. You rate them first? 
Beatrix. But wealth will come with them. 

Columbus. If I had worked for these, I had not 
lived 

The life I have. 
Beatrix. If you have not worked for them 

In part, at least, you are not what I thought. 
Columbus. How so? 

Beatrix. You mean that you could tamely waive 

Your rights — your children's too — to fame and 
wealth? 
Columbus. I see — I had not thought. 
Beatrix. Oh, yes; a mind 

May be so wholly filled with its own thoughts. 

They crowd out thoughts for others. 
Columbus. Think you so? 

I must correct the fault. 
Beatrix. You now have time. 

How sweet to settle down upon your honors ! 
Columbus. What, what? — You think I am pre- 
pared for that? 



COLUMBUS. 253 

Beatrix. You are not young, 
Columbus. No; fifty-eight. 

Beatrix. Not strong. 

Columbus. To-day there came a letter from the 
sovereigns. 

It begs my presence to prepare with them 

A second expedition. 
Beatrix. You to lead it? 

You will? 
Columbus. Why not? 

Beatrix. Why, you have earned your rest. 
Columbus. From whence? — I do not feel it given 
me here. 

{^Placing his hand on his heart. ) 
Beatrix. Are not content yet ? — What an ap- 
petite 

Has man's ambition! all that gluts to-day 

But bringing greater hunger for the morrow; 

A fire consuming all it feeds upon, 

Still flaming upward and beyond it all. 
Columbus. True! — but of more that you apply it 
to,— 

Of those desires that are but of the soul. 

I strove to find the Indies. Are they found? 

To plant the cross in all those lands ; and yet 

Great lands wait undiscovered. 
Beatrix. Other ships 

Are sure to sail and reach them. 
Columbus. Ay, they may. 



254 COLUMBUS. 

But all that I can know is that the call 
Has come to me. 
Beatrix. Well, well, if you say must, 

Perhaps it must be. Still — if you be needed — 
You think you are— mark one thing: you can 

make 
Your own terms with the sovereigns. 
Enter — Right — Diego. 
Columbus. What? 

Beatrix. Your terms — 

Demand your rights, and mine — your son's and 
mine. 
Enter — Left — a Maid who speaks aside to Beatrix. 
Diego {aside^. Ah, nothing like a she-hand, 
skill' d in needles. 
To prick man's vanity, and gown the hurt 
In vain disguises! When unselfish zeal 
Demands investment in the mail of force. 
He that of old had spirit to inspire 
Swings but a sword that cleaves a scar of greed. 

(^To Beatrix who is looking toward him.) 
As rich must he be as a king ere long. 
That ought to satisfy you. 
{To Columbus, referring to the crowd outside the 
house.) Yes, I sent 

Them off. 
Beatrix {to the two men^ as she turns from talking 
to the Maid). 

Excuse me for a moment 



COLUMBUS. 255 

Beatrix hows to Columbus and Diego, and 
they bow to her. As Beatrix turns away, 
Diego begins to talk aside to Columbus, 
shaking his head as if disapproving oj 
what she has just said. Beatrix pauses 
near Right Side Entrance — to say aside — 

I 
Must write at once to Dona Bobadilla, 
And have her tell the Queen our terms — Ours? 

— yes — 
Yes, he has vowed a thousand times or more 
That what I wish, he wishes. They are ours. 
Exeunt — Right — Beatrix and Maid, who has 

waited for her just before the door. 
Diego (to Columbus, as if continuing a conversatioii). 
Will waive that then. — Now tell me of the people. 
Columbus. A noble race, who live there in a state 
Almost of Paradise, their wants but few 
And nature so profuse — 'I tell you truth — 
They neither toil nor spin. 
Diego. Nor spin? Why how 

About their clothing? 
Columbus. Is not needed. 

Diego. What? 

Columbus. Oh, you get used to that ! 
Diego. Then how about — 

- Their character? 
Columbus. Is not so much a thing 

Of clothes as Europeans think, perhaps. ♦ 



256 COLUMBUS, 
Diego. But then 



Columbus. The Turks keep faces veiled ; turn all 
The body into private parts — what for? 
If ill-desire be fruit of thinking, germed 
In curiosity, to clear away 
Some underbrush, and let in Hght might help 
To blight the marsh-weed, and reveal, besides, 
Part of the beauty that brought bliss to Eden. 

Diego. You mean 

Columbus. That nothing like a length of robe, 
Material in substance and in sense, 
Can stole an anti-spirit-ministry. 
It bags what heaven made that the world may 

deem 
The bag well baited for a game of hell. 

Diego. You talk in riddles. 

Columbus. Read a page or two 

From human nature, they are solved. Out 

there. 
Except with chiefs — it is the same, you know, 
With our high classes — people live in pairs. 
As birds do ; and, myself, I saw no hint 
Of lust or competition. They all seem 
To love their neighbors as themselves, and own 
All things in common. Why, to us they gave 
Whatever we could ask ; and often too 
Without the dimmest prospect of return. 

Diego. They welcomed you ? 

Columbus. They thought us fresh from heaven : 



COLUMBUS, 257 

Our flesh was fair ; that wide, wild sea our 
slave. 

Oh, what a race to be made Christians of ! 
Diego. What for ? 

Columbus. Why, only give such men religion 

Diego. With lives of love, and welcoming guests 
from heaven — 

Where would you find much more in Christian 
Spain ? 

Columbus. Well, but 

Diego. Precisely what I mean — a butt. 

Columbus. You always will be butting some 

thing. 
Diego. Yes, 

A family trait with both of us, I think. 

Were I a man of action like yourself, 

I might not doubt but do. 
Columbus. Not undo, eh? — 

You mean you doubt my statements? 
Diego. Hardly that, 

But I was thinking 

Columbus. Thinking has its dangers. 

Diego. Yes, but for it I should have been a priest. 

At present, am confessor but to you. 

And my advice is, — not to say to others 

What you have said to me. 
Columbus. Why? 

Diego. It would make 

The world suspect you. 



258 COLUMBUS. 

Columbus. How? — and what ? 

Diego. Why, say, 

Your faith. 

Columbus. Impossible ! God knows — they know — 
The purpose of my life. — 

Diego. Your life ! But faith — 

Is not a thing to-day of life, but talk; 
And God — He has not much to do with it. 
A man of faith, is one whose faith in those 
To whom he talks will make him talk their 

thoughts. 
None here will think that what you say can be. 

Columbus. Not even you ? 

Diego. Why, yes, — but yes and no. 

The power that makes imagination burst 
Through limits of our world, as you have done, 
To find this new world, makes it pass beyond 

them. 
The glories of that sunset-land may all 
Be in the land you saw, or in the sky. 

Columbus. I see your meaning. 
Enter — Beatrix — Right. 

Diego. If your mounts of gold too 

Do not come tumbling very speedily 
To fill the itching lap of Spain, why then, 
We know who will be blamed. 

Columbus. Oh, but they will! 

Beatrix. Now, gentlemen, if you will walk in here 
{Motioning toward the Right) ^ 



COLUMBUS. 259 

A luncheon waits : and I have news for you, 
Both bright and black. 
Columbus. Humph ! — nothing bright can come, 

But brings beside it something in the shade. 
Beatrix. The court, so Dona Bobadilla writes. 

Will welcome you in state at Barcelona. 
Diego. Well, that is bright. Now tell us what is 

black? 
Beatrix. That Pinzon's crew has reached Bay- 
onne; and there 
The man has claimed your honors as his own. 
Columbus. What perfidy! — Would make us all 
turn back 
Before we found the land, and after that 
A claim like this! 
Diego. To herald his delight 

In what he made you do! — Yet not surpris- 
ing! 
The train of genius marshals everywhere 
Distrust before success, and envy after. 
Exeunt — at the Right — Beatrix, Columbus and 
Diego. 



Scene Second. — Surroundings of a Pavilion^ erected 
in front of the royal residence at Barcelona. In the 
extreme background^ beyond an opeii place ^ is the ex- 
terior of the house of Cardinal Mendoza. In front 



26o ' COLUMBUS. 

of this house^ are awnings or curtains^ which, at the 
conclusio7i ^ Scene Second, are to be lifted or drawn 
aside in order to prepare for Scene Third. To tJie 
Right are parts of the Palace, to the Left are pillars 
supporting the Pavilion. Within the Pavilion., at the 
Left., near the back of stage but in front of the open 
place, is an elevated platform on which are four throne 
chairs. Nearer the Left Front of the stage is a place 
for a choir. 

Entrances : — Right Side Rear — into the open place be- 
yond the Palace — Right Side Front — in front of the 
Palace ; Left Side Rear — op e7i place beyond the Pavi- 
lion — Left Side Middle — between the pillars at the 
Left — and Left Side Front — i7i front of the Pavilion. 
The curtain risiiig discloses the King and Queen 
and Prince Juan, seated upon the throne, attended 
by the dignitaries of their court a7id the principal 
nobility iT/'Castile, Valentia, Catalonia <2;^^Aragon ; 
also Gonzalez, Arana, Fonseca, Breviesca and 
others. The royal choir are at the extreme Left Fro7tt, 
a7id spectators of the more common sort at the Right 
and in the Rear. All seem enthusiastic. 

Music by orchestra a7td choir, with the following words : 

HAIL TO THE HERO, HOME FROM STRIFE. 

Hail to the hero, home from strife, 
Pride of our hearts and hope of our life. 
Hail to his glancing crest and plume, 
Flashed like lightning into the gloom. 



COLUMBUS. 261 

Hail to the grit that, when borne from view, 
Out of the darkness brought him through, 
Sprout of the slough-pit, bud of the thorn, 

After the night 

The light of the morn. 
Crown him with flowers and cull them bright. 
Crown him, the man of the land's delight. 

Hail to the hero, home from strife. 
Pride of our hearts and hope of our life. 
Hail to the ring of the voice that taught 
Drumming and roaring the rhythm of thought. 
Hail to the tone that could change to a cheer 
Groan and shriek of a startled fear. 
Hushing to rills the flood that whirred, 

Chorusing night 

With songs of the bird. 
Shout him a welcome, and shout with might, 
Shout for the man of the land's delight. 

Enter — Right side Rear — during the song, the follow- 
ing procession : 

First come Soldiers who march across the stage 
to Left Side Rear — then halt, turn toward 
the audience, and stand on guard at the 
Rear. Following the soldiers, surrounded 
by a brilliant throng of Spanish cavaliers, 
comes Columbus. He is on horseback, 
but dismounts at the entrance of the pavil- 
ion and enters it. As he does so, the King 
and Queen both rise to welcome him. 



262 COLUMBUS, 

Columbus kneels^ the King instantly takes 
his ha?id and motio?is to him to seat him- 
self in the vacant chair beside the?n on the 
slightly elevated platform. He is the only 
one besides the King, Queen and Prince 
who is seated. 

While the King, Queen, ^2;;^^ Columbus 
continue to talk, there come men bear- 
ing various kinds of parrots together with 
stuffed birds and animals of unknown 
species and rare plants supposed to be of 
precious qualities. A display is also made 
of Indian coronets, bracelets, and other 
decorations of gold. Last of all come 
Indians brought from America. They are 
painted according to their savage fashion, 
and decorated with their national orna- 
ments. As those who are in the proces- 
sion approach the pavilion, each in turn 
salutes the King and Queen, who remain 
sitting, as also does Columbus. 
(^See Irving's Columbus : Book V. 
Chapter Nl.) 

Enter— Right Side Front — Diego and Beatrix, a7id 
stand watching the ceremonies. 

King {^just as Columbus seats Imn self beside him). 
Well done, thou good and faithful servant. 



COLUMBUS. 263 

Queen. Yes, 

The land was where you said it was. 
Columbus. Not more 

Than eighty leagues from where I reckoned it. 
Queen. A rich land too ? 

Columbus {motioning to the attendants who in march- 
ing past ^ exhibit^ as he mentions them^ the differ- 
ent objects which they are carrying). 

You see what we have brought :— 
These birds and animals unknown to Spain, 
All promising vast wealth in plumes and furs ; 
These trees and plants that grow like reeds in 

swamps, 
And covered thick as leaves with ready food ; 
These aromatic herbs, in which all forms 
Of sickness find a sure and natural cure ; 
This gold that lies upon the soil like dust, 
Or else like pebbles tumbling from the cliffs, 
And easily moulded into ornaments ; 
These pearls and gems that line the river-beds ; 
Add these brave people, sons of God like us. 
With generous natures and compliant wills. 
Who met us kneeling, as we knelt on shore. 
With reverent souls prepared by heaven itself 
To welcome us as heavenly messengers ; 
And who to be made whole in holiness 
Need but the cleansing water of the church. 
Are these not eloquent beyond the power 
Of mortal lips ? 



264 COLUMBUS, 

Queen. They are. 

King. They are. 

All. Yes, yes. 

Columbus. But what that land contains is in 
supply 
As far beyond the treasure here, as is 
A whole vast continent beyond the store 
That can be packed in one small vessel. Yes, 
That realm of boundless wealth in rock and soil 
And boundless progress for the state and soul, 
Past all that human fancy can conceive, 
Lies there, embed in crystal seas and skies, 
A wondrous gift, fresh from the hand of God, 
As if untarnished by the touch of man, 
Awaiting your most Christian Majesties. 

King {standing^ as all do). Give God the praise. 

People, Thank God. Amen, amen. 

King {to Columbus, who when addressed, descends 
from the platform.) You hear the people 
and their whole-souled thanks. 
We but fulfill their wishes, crowning you 
With every proof of royal approbation. 
We now decree that, through all time henceforth, 
You shall be known as Admiral, Viceroy, 
And, if once more you cross the sea for us, 
Commander-General of all armaments, 
And Governor of all realms awaiting there. 
The bearer of the royal seal, with power 
To name your own successor and to will 



COLUMBUS, 265 

Your own inheritance ; and evermore 
These arms here are decreed your family. 

Enter — Left Side Second — an attendant hearing 
a banner in which the royal arms, the 
castle and lion, are quartered with a group 
of islands surrounded by waves and under 
them the motto : 

" To Castile and Leon 

Columbus gave a new worldP 

Diego {at the extreme Right Front — to Beatrix), 

You think he needed all those titles ? 
Beatrix. Why ? 

Diego. I think they sound like you. 
Beatrix. Well, what of that 1 — 

He ought to make his own terms with the 

sovereigns, — 
Demand his rights, and mine, — my son's and mine. 
Diego. When hunting sometimes, I have found 
that birds 
Of brightest plumage are the soonest shot. 
This is a world where many men go hunting. 
King {continuing to Columbus). 

And more than this : of all the ships in Spain 

We authorize your choice of which you will, 

With power to force each captain, pilot, crew, 

Or owner of a vessel, arms or stores, 

To do your bidding ; and besides we pledge 

Two-thirds of all the royal revenues 

Derived from our church tithes, and all that comes 



266 COLUMBUS, 

From confiscating all the property 

Of all the Jews, whom now, to yield us this, 

We banish from our realm. 

FoNSECA. God bless your Christian Majesties ! 

Others. God bless ! '" 

King. Now let us, all together, seek the church, 
And praise Him, as is meet for these vast boons 
Vouchsafed to Christian Spain, there to convert 

{Motioning toward the Indians.) 
By holy baptism these heathen souls. 

Arana {to FoNSECA, exultingly). 

The day begins when all the earth and all 
Its wealth shall be converted unto us. 

Exeunt — Left Side Front — King, Queen, Prince, 
Columbus, Courtiers, Indians, etc. 

Exeunt — Right Side Front — Diego, Beatrix aiid 
others. 

( While the rest are leaving the choir chant as follows .^ 

*•* Columbus. You do me honor, overmuch, I fear. 
And I too would give praise where all is due ; 
And that with deeds, not words. In view, this day, 
Of all the wealth that, with the power you give, 
Is destined now to come to me, I vow 
To raise and arm, inside of twice four years, 
Four thousand horse and twice as many foot, 
And just as many more in five years more, 
To drive to death the heathen Saracen 
And wrest from him the Holy Sepulchre. 

People. Oh, God ! we thank thee ! Glory to the Lord ! 



COLUMBUS. 267 

Oh soul, what earthly crown 

Is bright as his renown 
Whose tireless race 
Outruns the world's too halting pace, 
To reach beyond the things men heed 
That which they know not of, but need ! 

Oh soul, what man can be 

As near to Christ as he 
Who looks to life 
Not first for fame and last for strife ; 
But shuns no loss nor pain that brings 
The world to new and better things ! 

Exeunt — Left Side Front — Choir. 
Awnings in front of the house ^Mendoza rise reveal- 
ing Scene Third 



Scene Third .• Interior of a banqueting hall tn the 
house of yi.Y.'^TiQZK, A table crosses the stage at the 
Rear, Behind it in the Center^ on a seat slightly 
raised above the rest., is Columbus. At the right 
end of the table is Mendoza ; at the left end, 
FoNSECA and Breviesca. Others arranged as 
suits conve7iience. 

Breviesca (to Fonseca). 

What native here has ever yet received 

Such royal honors ? — Why, the sovereigns both 

Stood up to greet him, hesitated, too, 

To let him kneel, and sat him in their presence^ 

Fonseca. He sat, too, on the throne. 



268 COLUMBUS. 

Breviesca. I never saw 

A Spaniard treated thus. 
FoNSECA. He takes it all 

As if his due. 
Breviesca. Wait! — let me put him down — 

In thought, at least. 
( To Columbus, who sits playing with an egg on the 
table. ) 
Say, Admiral, do you think 
If you had not made this discovery 
That no one else in Spain here could have done 
it? 
Columbus. That seems a new idea. 
Mendoza. So it is, 

Columbus. I never asked myself about that yet— 
Oh, by the way, can any of you here 
Make this thing stand on end ? 

(Gonzalez, Breviesca and Fonseca begin to 
experiment^ as do others, with eggs lying 
on the table near them?^ 
Fonseca. An ^gg ? 

Columbus. An egg. 

Mendoza. Can it be done ? 
Columbus. Why, yes, you try it. 

Mendoza (trying). No ; 

I give it up. 
Fonseca. And I. 

Columbus {to Breviesca). 

You give it up ? 



COLUMBUS. 269 

Breviesca. I fail to see how — 
Columbus [setting the egg down on its small end with 
enough force to break the shell and make it 
stand). 

Now you see it — there! 
Mendoza. Oh! 
Breviesca, That is nothing! 

Columbus. Yes, like other things, 

Is easy enough, when once you see it done. 
{Laughter.) 
Curtain. End of Act IV. 



2/0 COLUMBUS, 



ACT FIFTH. 

Scene First : — A camp on the Island of Hispaniola^ 
backing, a clearing, amid woods with thick forests 
in the distance. At Right and Left, trees ; at the 
Left near the Front, the hut of Columbus. En- 
trances Right Side Rear, Second and Front — be- 
tween trees ; Left Side Rear — behind the hut of 
Columbus ; Left Side Second—from inside of it, 
Left — Side Front — between trees. 

Enter — Right Side Rear — Escobar and Roldan. 

Escobar. Ojeda, when his boats were on the coast, 
Said that at home the Admiral's cause was lost. 
Our notes have reached there. They have 

learned at last, 
How Spaniards, ay, and Spanish nobles too, 
Are lorded over by this foreigner. 

Roldan. And now he has been superseded ? 

Escobar. Yes, 

By Bobadilla. 

Roldan. Who is he ? 

Escobar Enough, 

If but a Spaniard. 

^^ Escobar. I hear that Breviesca and his bishop 
Who was Fonseca, now rule everything ; 
That they it was, who got the crown to give 
Ojeda all the Admiral's charts and half 



COLUMBUS. 271 

RoLDAN. Strange, though, all the same ! '' 

Escobar. You never heard of the Admiral's im- 
pudence, 
When brought before the bishops, years ago ? 
RoLDAN. At Salamanca, yes ; but he was right. 
Escobar. Or how he knocked down Breviesca, 
when 
Fonseca's messenger? — Besides, who wants 
To blacken Spain with shade from Genoa? 
Well, Bobadilla's men have come; and when 
His troopers flash in sight here, why, these eyes 
That have been straining so to see them come 
Will scratch some blinks to cure their vision's 
itching. 
Enter — Right Side — an old Indian, and advances 
toward Escobar, who addresses him. 
Humph ! Who are you, old cove ? — What ? — 

Clear the air. 
Stand off a white man's shadow. 
Indian. Me would see 

The Admiral. 
Escobar. Use your eyes then. Are you blind ? 

Indian. Me thought you know 

Enter — Left Side Rear — Columbus, and stands be 
hind the three. 

His rights too ; and would grant indulgences 
Without a stint if they could have their way 
To any here who struck him down. 
RoLDAN. Why so? 



2/2 COLUMBUS, 

Escobar. What right had you to think? 
And if we know, is it our business 
To do your errands for you? 
(Indian, seeing Columbus, passes toward Left Side 

Rear?) 
RoLDAN {laughingly to Escobar). 

Settled him. 
Columbus (to Indian). 
What now? 
Indian {to Columbus). 

Me wants to see you. 
Columbus (motioning toward his cabin). 

Yes, but wait 
In there a moment, please. 



^2 The trenches must be dug, and no delay. 

They threaten an attack. 
RoLDAN. Am I a man 

For work like that ? 
Columbus. Like what ? 

Escobar. The work that lets 

These common laborers wipe their dirty paws 

Upon one's coat. 
Columbus. Then take it off. 

ROLDAN. Ay, ay ; 

And grovel at their level. 
Columbus. Does your rank 

Depend upon your coat ? — pray heaven that you 

Be born again, a new man and a true one. 
ROLDAN. You did not promise this work, when we 
sailed. 



COLUMBUS. 273 

Exit — Left side — into the hut of Columbus, the In- 
dian. Columbus ^^(?^ ^« /(? Escobar. 

It would be wise 
To keep the red-men friends; and friendship's light 
Reflects but what is kindled in ourselves. 
Extinguish it within, and soon without 
We find our world in darkness. — Now, to work.**^ 
Exeunt — Right Side — Roldan and Escobar. 
Columbus {going to his cabin and motioning the 
Indian to come out.) 
Well now, my friend, what is it ? 
Indian. White man kill 

Our men and steal our women. 



Columbus. The Spaniards had not shown their 

lust and greed, 
Defiled the native women, killed the men, 
And, sent in squadrons to preserve the peace, 
All grasping for the whole of all they saw, 
Beset their comrades like a set of bulls 
Becrimsoned with each other's gore. Mere 

brutes ! 
No wonder they have disenchanted thus 
The people who at first believed them gods. 
Now get you gone — no waiting ! 

Columbus {turns toward his hut). 
Escobar {aside, shaking his fist at Columbus's back). 

Yes, until 
We too get you gone, which will not take long. 



274 COLUMBUS, 

Columbus. Yes — and I? 

Indian. Kill white man. 

Columbus. What .? 

Enter — Left Side Rear — Bartholomew, and stands 

by Columbus. 

Indian. We Injun call you men 

Great-Spirit-men. Poor Injun when he die, 

When bad go here, when good go there, 

{Pointing first down and then up) 

Columbus. What, you — 

You Indians think this ? 
Bartholomew. I shall write that home. 

Is more than some there seem to think. 
Columbus. It is. 

{To Indian.) 
And what of that, my friend? 
Indian. White-spirit-chief 

Send bad men here and good men there. 
{Pointing first down and then up.) 
Columbus. I see — 

Put down the bad, put up the good. Quite right ! 
And I will try to learn the lesson, friend. 
Indian {pointing in a half-frightened way toward the 
Right). 
Bad man come there. 

(Bartholomew steps toward the Right). 
Columbus. Humph, humph, please leave us then ; 
And wait in here again. 

{Motio7iing totvard his hut) 



COLUMBUS. 275 

Exit — Left Side — into the hut, Indian, Columbus 
turns toward Bartholomew. 

Whom have we coming ? 
Bartholomew. A crowd of captives — women, as I 
think. 
The men with them are Roldan's. 
Columbus. Only force 

Can deal with them; — are all old criminals. 
Suppose you bring a guard here. 
Bartholomew. Yes, I will. 

Exit— Left Side Eront — Bartholomew, 
Columbus {looking toward the Right). 

Humph ! — one of them seems coming on alone. 
That makes it easier! — is Pintor, too! 
Enter — Right Side — Pintor. Columbus speaks to 
him. 

You back ? What have you brought ? 
Pintor. Some household gods. 

Columbus. Whose are they ? 
Pintor. Ours. 

Columbus. Oh, yours ? — how came they yours ? 

Pintor. By right of conquest. 
Columbus. What ? 

Pintor. We killed their men. 

Columbus. And left them widows ? 
Pintor. No ; we made them brides. 

We thought this kinder than to leave them widows. 
Columbus. Law-breakers ! 



276 COLUMBUS. 

PiNTOR. Pugh ! with all that you have seized, 

Made slaves of, sent to Spain and sold 

Columbus. But they were captives from our foes. 
Enter — Left Side Rear — Bartholomew, 
Gutierrez and a guard who cross the 
stage at the back, and march forward 
between Pintor and the Right Side. 
PiNTOR. Well I 

Take any man who flushes red all over, 
As they do when I meet them, for a foe. 
Columbus. The slaves we sent to Spain were taken 
there 
To be made Christians of. 
Pintor. And so with us — 



^^ And let them lead a free and easy life. 
Columbus. You fail to see the danger ? Why, 
their tribe 
Will massacre us all ; if not, your vices 
Will bring you hell here, even while you live. 
Pintor. You know my story — was condemned to death- 
For nothing, though — and then the court decreed, 
Instead of this, that I should come out here ; 
And if I make it hell, it seems to me. 
In hell is where they want me. 
Columbus {to Gutierrez). 

Take this man, 
Remove, etc. 

«'*( 7"^ Pintor.) 
Hereafter keep a hold upon your tongue. 
Pintor. Ay, Senior ; but be not so hard on me. 



COLUMBUS. 277 

Nice Christians, too ; for we shall have them 

washed 
And not made slaves, but take them to our 
homes,^^ 
Columbus {to Gutierrez). 

Take this man, 
Remove his arms, and march him to the works/" 
Exeunt — Right — Gutierrez and Soldiers with 

PiNTOR. 

Columbus continues to Bartholomew. 

No man can tell which curse a country most ;— - 

Its gentlemen who feel above all work ; 

Or workmen so far down they feel beneath 

All obligation to be gentlemen. 

As for the first, heaven grant they soon find out 



This land needs peopling. 
Bartholomew. And will need it more, 

If Spain send more of those vile wretches here. 

We all may be killed off. 
Columbus. And rightly so. 

Bartholomew. Had I my way, a brute forever 
kicking 

Against the law should go in bit and bridle ; 

Ay, ay, to see a surgeon too. A touch 

Of horse-play — there were cuttings that would 
cure him 

And all his kind. The best should let their land 

Be peopled only by the best. 
Columbus. That might 

Be wise ; but where, pray, would you find the best ? 



2/8 COLUMBUS, 

That this new world is not a place for them. 
As for the second, if we plan no way 
To keep them on the other side the sea, 
Farewell to all the good we hope for here.'' 
{Noises outside.) 

What noise is that — a riot ? 
Bartholomew {who with Columbus looks toward 
Left Side). No ; — are cheers 



^^ Enter — Right 6'z^.?— Gutierrez. 
What now ? 
Gutierrez {handing Columbus a note). 

We found this when we searched him. 
Columbus. Ay ? 

It seems not mine. 
Gutierrez. Perhaps it might be well 

For you to read it. 
Columbus {reading it). 

So ?^. I will. Why, why? 
{To Bartholomew.) 
Bartholomew, a new conspiracy ! 
Bartholomew. But that man could not write. 
Columbus. Oh no ; not he ! 

He merely carries it from one who can. 

{Handing the note to Bartholomew.) 
This time, it seems the high and low will meet, 
And we, between them, will be crushed. 
Bartholomew {threateningly). Perhaps. 

Columbus. It speaks about another fleet in port. 
I thought the treachery that had given my charts 



COLUMBUS. 279 

Columbus. You make them out? 
Bartholomew. Why, all the town is there! 

And look — our prisoners too ! 
Columbus. What — those condemned 

To death? 
Bartholomew. Ay, ay; and have the leadership ; 

And with them — can it be? — it is! there come 

The San Domingo traitors. 



And right to govern islands west of here 

To Pinzon and Ojeda was enough. 

This tells of one who claims a jurisdiction 

In our own island. 
Bartholomew. Bobadilla, yes. 

What will you do ? 
Columbus. Divide and conquer, 

( To Gutierrez.) Here ! 
Gutierrez. Ay, ay. 

Columbus. To chains with all those named in this. 
{Handing Gutierrez the note.) 

The most should be at home now. Be alert. 

Exit — Right Side — Gutierrez. 

{To Bartholomew.) 

Bartholomew, the rest of those condemned 

For sharing in that last conspiracy, 

Whom our too willing clemency had spared, 

Should be brought out to-day and shot. 

Bartholomew. But then 

Columbus. I see no other way. When mercy fails 

The cause is lost that does not call on justice. 



280 COLUMBUS, 

Columbus. Is that so ? 

{Looking toward Right Side.) 
. Here, here ! 

Enter — Right Side — Gutierrez with the Soldiers 
and PiNTOR. 
Ay, steady now. Stand there. On guard. 
Bartholomew (^Still looking toward the Left). 

They halt, consulting. — What ? Can that be he 1 — ■ 
Velasquez, our sub-treasurer ! Not so ? 
Juan de Travierra, too ! 
Columbus, How strange ! 

Why, they were friends ! ^® 
Enter— Left — Velasquez and Sanchez, soon fol- 
lowed by Escobar, Roldan, Soldiers, and 
a Rabble. Columbus continues 

Well, have you business here ? 

Velasquez. We have been sent ■ 

Columbus. True men are never sent 

By their inferior. They will face him down ; 



^^ — and yet 

Bartholomew. Have left the rest— • 

Are coming here. 
Columbus. Alone ? 

Bartholomew. I think so. 

Columbus. Yes. 

I recognize them now. It must be they. 

But how to solve now what it means ! — Can you ? 
Bartholomew. Who could ? — The others have 
begun to follow. 



COLUMBUS. 281 

And not turn tail like driven beasts of burden. 
Velasquez. You do not know our message. 
Columbus. One may judge 

A message from its messengers. I see 

A crowd of common criminals. Were they 

Set free by you, yourselves are criminals. 

Velasquez. Your pardon ; but " 

Columbus. I am the Viceroy. 

Traitors to him are traitors to the king. 
Velasquez. You may not be this now. 
Columbus. What mean you ? 

Velasquez {handing him an official paper of which 
he holds many). Here, 

Is from the court. 
Columbus {taking and reading if). 

An outrage ! Yet but gives 

This Bobadilla — who ? and what is he ? — 

Authority to make investigations. 

Columbus. Aha ! They think that these will seem 
our friends ; 
And make an opening through which all can enter. 
What keener point could treachery find to edge 
Its wedge of enmity, than tried old friendship ? 

( To the Guard.) Make ready.— Wait. 

^■^ Columbus. You should have asked for that 
Before you freed your pals there. No one here 
Can have the right to pardon men but me. 

Velasquez. Yet you mistake 



282 COLUMBUS. 

Insulting! — There is here no grant 

For freeing captives that have been condemned. 
Velasquez (handing Columbus another roll). 

They sent another paper. 
Columbus (receiving and reading it). 

That I yield 

All arms and ships and royal property — 

Yes, yes, if the investigation warrants — 

It will not though. 
Velasquez. Ah, but he says it does. 

Columbus It does? Why, I have never seen 
this man. 

Velasquez. He has investigated. 

Columbus. What? 

Velasquez. Your papers. 

Columbus. My papers? — Which and where? 
Velasquez. Those in your house. 

Columbus. He entered that? 
Velasquez. He lives there. 

Columbus. In my house ?— 

And reads my private papers ? 
Velasquez. They were found, 

While carrying out his other orders. 
Columbus. More ? 

Velasquez {handing other papers to Columbus). 

Yes, these. 
Columbus (receiving and reading them). 

That I should pay all wages due 

With all arrears for royal services — 

What then ? 



COLUMBUS, 283 

Velasquez. He takes them from your property. 
Columbus. Without a word to me ? — Why this 
means ruin ! 
And who decides the claims ? — a man without 
The means or inchnation, as it seems, 
To know the truth ? — whose first official act 
Is making friends by setting traitors free ? 
And violating both the laws of Spain 
And common courtesy ? — It is too much. 
Away, and tell him I defy him. Say, 
With all the rabble that are back of him, 
Enough are here yet that are loyal still 
To Spain and me, to crush one traitor more. 
Velasquez. I fear the loyal must be all against you. 
{Handiiig Columbus another paper.) 
Read this : — a royal patent that invests 
This Bobadilla with all power and right 
Of governing these islands. 
Columbus (looking at the paper). 

Royal seals } 
It cannot be — but yet— 

{Handing the paper to Bartholemew.) 
Can it be true ? 
I knew that we had enemies ; but not 
That they could be so powerful. 
Bartholemew. Shall we fight? 

Columbus. It might be useless ; and it must be 
wise 
To keep the right, when with us, with us yet. 



284 COLUMBUS, 

No; let us yield. My brother, there are times 
When wrongs are great that they may be per- 
ceived, 
And emphasize the need of their redress/* 
Velasquez. There is another order. 
Columbus. Eh? 

Velasquez. Is with 

This officer. 

(gesturing toward Sanchez.) 
Sanchez {advancing slowly toward Coi.vmbv^) . 

My orders — not desire. 
Columbus. Am I to die for serving Spain so 

well? 
Sanchez (Jo both Columbus and Bartholemew). 

Not that — Your swords. 
Columbus (as he and Bartholemew give up their 
swords^ as does also Gutierrez). 

But worse than that ! — What next ? 
Sanchez {motioning to a Soldier who brings for- 
ward some ha7idcuffs^ 
I act but for the court. 



^^ {Turning to Gutierrez and the Guard.) 
My men, this royal patent takes from me 
The government ; bestows what powers were 

mine 
On Bobadilla. All the loyalty 
Once shown to me, for which my gratitude 
Will always thank you, now belongs to him. 



COLUMBUS. 285 

Columbus. Are those for me? 

What crime have I committed ? 
Sanchez. I know none. 

Columbus. I said I would submit. You doubt my 
word ? 
Or courage ? — or persistency ? — or what ? 
Sanchez. You must return to Spain. 
Columbus. In chains? — Who dares 

To place them on me? 

(looking at Sanchez and his Guard.) 
Sanchez (hesitating and looking around^. 

There are large rewards 
For him that does it. They are offered. — Speak. 

(to Columbus.) 
We all are friends, you see. 
PiNTOR. Not all; not all! 

(taking the handcu^^s?) 
Here, let me have them, boys — am used to 

them. 
A fair man gives what he receives, not so ? 
(Puts them on Columbus.) 

Gutierrez. No, never. 
Guard. No. 

Enter— Left i"?^*?— Sanchez, Soldiers, Escobar, 
RoLDAN and a rabble. 
Columbus. It seems the sovereigns' will. 

Help me by sharing with me what I bear. 

{to Velasquez.) 
Inform the governor we await his wishes. 



286 COLUMBUS. 

Here, curse you ! Now fall overboard, and these 
Will sink you, as we meant to, years ago. 

(Turning to Bartholemew and faste7ii?ig another 
pair on him.) 
Now you too. 

Rabble. Ho, ho, ho ! 

Columbus (to Bartholemew). 

Bartholemew, 
A single bracelet is enough, men think, 
To show a common gratitude. But we, 
Why, we have two! They think their debt 
To us a doubled one ! How it will thrill 
Ambition in the future sons of Spain 
To learn what badges of true servitude 
Await the souls that serve her best. We, we. 
Who made of Spain the Empress of the West, 
Have weightier honors waiting us, — to be 
The slaves that, crushed to earth, will pedestal 
The towering contrast of her sovereignty. 

Exeunt — Left Side Front — Sanchez, his Soldiers, 
Columbus and Bartholemew. 
Exeunt — to Left and Right — Omnes. 



Scene Second — A court belonging to a house in 
Seville. Backings and at the Right, parts of the 
building on either side of the court. The same 
at the Left, but near the Left Front entrance a 



COLUMBUS, 287 

chai?' or two and a sofa with one end raised on 
which to rest the head. 

Entrances — at Right Side — and Left Side. 
(Enter — Right Side — Diego and Beatrix.) 

Diego. You must not talk about his poverty. 

Beatrix. Why not ? 

Diego. Will kill him. 

Beatrix. I am nursing him. 

Diego. Yes, all that grows toward death. 

Beatrix. If he had been 

Content — had left the land to others, when 

Once found 

Diego. What? Can a mother leave her child, 

When born — no more? Far less the land he 
sought, 

Than those grand hopes that he had based on it 

As a foundation. 
Beatrix. These he might have watched 

As well at home here. 
Diego. Why, I thought it you 

Who urged him on to wealth. The wealth was 
there. 

And how about those titles? All of them 

Were labels not of use unless he sailed. 
Beatrix. Why did he use them arbitrarily? 
Diego. Less use than their possession gave offense. 

Besides, we men are trained in government 

As well as manners. And the curse of force 



288 COLUMBUS. 

Is that its own mean methods keep alive 

Its first excuse for being. Tyranny 

May make of chaos order; but, when throned, 

Knows not a subject that is not a slave. 

Would one of those o'er whom my brother ruled, 

Have bent the knee to an authority 

Not ermined in the old familiar guise 



«» Diego. Did I so ? 

Beatrix. And it came true — as often so with 
you — 
Not that I like you better for it, though. 
Diego. My words come true, eh ? — One might 
think they would ; 
So few regard them ! It is one sure test 
Of prophets that they prophesy in vain. 

Beatrix. You might have urged your brother 

Diego. Oh, not I! 

I never urge myself. 
Beatrix. But when you know — 

Diego. Imagine only — not the same as knowing \ 
Imagination dreams : its dreams anon 
May leap Time's processes, or, keen-eyed, spy 
The end from the beginning. Yet such dreams 
Come but to him so stirred in sympathy 
With nature's courses, or inspired in aim 
For nature's goals, or swept on by its force. 
That sheer inertia of the soul outspeeds 
The pace of grosser matter. 
Beatrix. And to you 

At times 



COLUMBUS. 289 

Of arbitrariness? 
Beatrix. Had he conceived 

How all would end! 
Diego. It could not be conceived. 

Beatrix. But you conceived it. 
Diego. I? 

Beatrix. Why, yes. You spake 

Of envy sure to follow.^® 



Diego. The times come seldom. Ay, not oft 
Do fancy's flowers foretoken fruit ; not oft 
Is ripe fruit laden on the limbs that bloom 
Most brilliant with the flowers. — Yet have I seen 

it,— 
Imagination imaging true life, 
Life true to all its images ; and then 
I found a seer, earth's rarest product. 

Beatrix. That 

Is what some say that you are. 

Diego. To be true 

To life, when all the men that have life doubt me 
I ought to join with them, and doubt myself. 

Beatrix. In that you are not like your brother. 

Diego. No ; 

With him quick action follows on the thought. 
With me come only talk, and then more thought. 
He mounts to find success. I prophesy — 
Perhaps ; but where success is, at my best, 
Am only of the crowds that cheer it. 
{Looking to the Left?) 



290 COLUMBUS. 

Enter— Left Side — Columbus, attended by his 
two sons^ Young Diego, a man, and 
Fernando, a youth. Columbus with 
help is seated on the sofa. Diego continues 
to Columbus. 

Well, what news ? 
Columbus. A new world has been found of bound- 
less wealth ; 
And he who found it, finds himself a beggar. 
A king and queen were throned o'er that n^w 

world. 
Who throned them there, they seized and bound 
in chains, 
Diego. Oh, yes; but then the chains were taken 

off. 
Columbus. A nation has been made the first on 
earth. 
Who made it this, for this deed has been made 
The last in all that nation — not one shred 
Of all his property, or power, or rank. 
Stripped by injustice from him, when well proved 
To be injustice, has been given back. 

Here 
He comes, poor man — his faithful sons too. How 
I love them for their faithfulness ! Alas, 
How fast he fails ! If there were once a time 
"We feared he might be wrecked, a time has 

come 
When his firm spirit reels, the prey of waves 



COLUMBUS. 291 

His name he leaves dishonored, and his heirs 

Inherit nakedness. 
Beatrix. Yes, that is it. 

You see if he 

Diego {gesturing violently to silence Beatrix). 

Not now. The time will come . 



Beatrix {suddenly turning her back upon Diego and 
speakhig to herself^. 
Oh, when he prophesies, I always fear 
That he will prophesy some ill of me. 
Exit — Left Side — Beatrix. 

Diego {to Columbus). 

Nay; nothing now can dim your well-earned 
fame. 

Columbus. A man who gave his life for what to all 
Appeared impossible, attained it, then 
Found charts and notes that told the story, stolen, 
And that which was his own discovery. 
Called not by his own name but by another's. 

Diego. Yes, it is very strange. 

Columbus. So very strange 

It seems that when I think it can be true, 



Far worse than waves that sweep the sea alone. 
Such havoc has fierce envy wrought in him, 
What wonder if soon nature, in revolt, 
Should doff the guise this world has torn to 

rags 
And give him something richer ? 



292 COLUMBUS, 

I pause to listen to ,the morning bells 
To wake me from a dream. 

Diego. It is a dream. 

The force that keeps eternal worth from light 
Is but of time — a thing short-lived. 

Columbus. I know — 

Were it not for my children. 

Young Diego. They are proud 

Of one who, all his life-time, has kept faith 
With his own soul, however left alone. 

Columbus. Alone, and yet not lonely. Be one 
true 
To his own mission, he is in the ranks 
With all that move toward all good ends that wait. 

{Looking at his sons.) 
And but for you — think not I lived my life 
To beg men for a badge to brag about! 
Enough, if I have been an influence. 

Diego. Ay, that is all that God is. 

Columbus. God? 

Diego. Yes, God. 

What voice, or face, or form, or robe, or crown, 
Or throne attests His Presence? Who can trust 
And serve mere outward, sensuous things like 

these, 
And not be all through life — ay, out of it 
And even after death — a slave to sense. 
No brother of the Christ, no son of God? 
(Columbus suddenly falls back upon the sofa!) 



COLUMBUS. 293 

Fernando. See — he is fainting! 
Young Diego. Help him! 

Diego. What is this? 

Why, Christopher! 

{To the sons as all three hend over Columbus.) 
Go, call a doctor — priest ! 
Exeunt — Left Side Front — the two sons?) 
Columbus (reviving and pointing toward the center of 
stage). 
The new world — you must watch it — it will grow. 
Hark — there are words I hear — and look — Felipa I 
O Lord, to thy hands I commit my spirit. 

(Columbus sinks in death supported by Diego, 
who does not seem to notice what follows, 
being wholly absorbed in attending to 
Columbus.) 



Scene Third : — The curtain forming the hack of 
Scene Second rises disclosing at the Left the same 
convent chapel and wall that occupy that place in 
Act Firsts Scene First. The convent wall, however, 
extends across the stage to the Right, and the whole 
Scene is backed by a distant view of a fertile, cul- 
tivated, and populous country, including mountains 
and valleys, rivers spanned by bridges, and low lands 
filled with towns and cities, — all representing the 
present condition of the western continent. Near 



294 



COLUMBUS. 



the entrance of the chapel^ stands Felipa, gazing 
toward this land, while, by a choir unseen within 
the chapel, the same hymn is chanted as that with 
which the drama opens, as follows : 

O Life divine, from thee there springs 

All good that germs and grows ; 
Thy Light behind the sunlight brings 

The harvests to their close. 

O, Life divine, thou art the source, 

Of truth within the soul ; 
Thou art the guide through all the course 

That leads it to its goal. 

O, Life divine, what soul succeeds 

In aught on earth but he 
Who moves as all desires and deeds 

Are lured and led by thee. 

Curtain. 



CECIL THE SEER« 



CECIL THE SEER. 



INTRODUCTION. 

To determine aright the relations that should exist between 
form and spirit is to solve the most important, perhaps, of 
human problems. Ideally, of course, the one should be a 
perfect expression of the other ; but, in this world, nothing is 
ideal or perfect ; and in nothing is the fact more clearly ex- 
emplified than in the frequent failure of a form to represent 
that which, apparently, it exists for the sole purpose of repre- 
senting. To recognize, and, so far as possible, to remedy 
this condition, are primal obligations of intelligence ; and 
this fact justifies the extensive treatment of the subject which 
has characterized the literature of all periods. Such treat- 
ment, however, cannot go to the bottom of its possibilities 
without considering relations that are distinctively religious ; 
for it is religion that most imperatively demands that the form 
be a truthful expression of the spirit. But forms which, as in 
the Second Act of the following drama, are to be turned inside 
out in order to reveal their inadequacies, must, of themselves, 
be forms in connection with which such inadequacies are unex- 
pected. Otherwise the whole portrayal will be too common- 
place to warrant attention. It will be perceived, therefore, 
that the selection of religious characters for the drama was 
justified by the requirements of the theme ; and also that the 
use which is made of these characters is not intended to dis- 
credit religion as a whole. Indeed, only those can recognize 
the full significance of the presentation who also recognize 
that the incongruities indicated are not of ordinary occurrence. 

Again, the suggestions derivable from a subject like that 



298 CECIL THE SEER. 

treated in Cecil the Seer, in order to appear generally applic- 
able, need to be drawn from a general survey of all the possi- 
bilities of form ; and it is for this reason, and not because of 
a desire to disparage any particular form, that such religious 
characters were selected as are typical of the remotest ex- 
tremes of the narrow and the broad in theory and of formalism 
and non-conformity in practice. The inconsistencies suggested 
do not arise because any one form of religion invariably tends 
to self-deception, but because, in certain circumstances, all or 
any forms may tend in this direction, A sufficient motive for 
portraying the fact is that only in the degree in which a man 
has a practical recognition of it can he exercise that discern- 
ment, or be controlled by that principle, which should char- 
acterize the spiritual life. 

With reference to the Second Act of the drama, it may not 
be out of place to say that the underlying conception of it is 
in strict accordance with human experience. Not a few, but 
many, who, through accident or disease, have, for a compara- 
tively long period, lost consciousness, and have again been 
restored to it, have borne witness that, while in the uncon- 
scious state, their minds seem to have been employed in 
developing exclusively the last thought impressed upon them 
before passing into the state. In unfolding the details neces- 
sitated by this general conception, it is enough to say that it 
would not have been in accordance with the practice of the 
author had he not carefully and consistently sought to conform 
them to that which is most universal in the testimony given 
by those supposed to be in such states, or in corresponding 
ones produced in accordance with what are termed psychic 
methods. How much absolute truth one is justified in assign- 
ing to testimony thus obtained — from that of Swedenborg 
downward — no one, perhaps, can decide with authority ; but 
there must be some reason why the general tendencies of the 
statements made — as applied to things reported as heard or 
seen, not to the testifier's explanations of them — virtually 



CECIL THE SEER. 299 

coincide. The suggestion that there may be such a reason is 
enough to make a man pause and think, and to do this 
whether he surmise that the testimony, because coming through 
the subconscious, reveals the results of extraneous revelation, 
or only because, coming from the subconscious, it reveals the 
results of universal intuition. It is true, too, that at the end 
of many years of pausing and thinking, he may not have been 
able to make out beyond dispute the source of that which he 
is considering ; but one thing he can always do, and from the 
very first : He can compare the import of that which is 
received with the results, in his own mind, of a combination 
of previous information, spiritual insight, and rational infer- 
ence. Whatever, in its general outlines, coincides with these 
results will have for him, and must have — his mind cannot 
prevent it — the authority of truth. But exactly the same may 
be affirmed of statements which have the authority of truth 
when communicated through the forms of poetry. Could 
there be given any better reason — or excuse if needed — for 
letting the thought of this drama be borne on as a result of 
yoking together the poetic and the psychic ? 



PLACE AND TIME. 

Act First : In a Southern " Border State " of the American 
Union, a little before the War for Secession. 
An evening party at the home of the Cecils. 
Scene: A large hall with glimpses beyond it 
of a parlor and a porch. 

Act Second : Scenes First and Third : Interior of a sick 
chamber. Scene Second : A grove representing 
the surroundings of a dream or trance. 

Act Third: In a Northern " Border State " just at the open- 
ing of the War for Secession. Scene First: The 
interior of the home of Freeman and Celia ; 
Scene Second: A village green in front of Free- 
man's house, at one side of which the porch of 
bis house is visible. 



Js this a revelation ? 

Ay, to those 
Who heed the truth behind the words I use ; 
And yet for those who heed this truth themselves 
I do not need to term it revelation. 

Cecil the Seer^ II^ 2. 

All life on earth 
Is girt with warfare, where the light of heaven 
That brings each new day's liberty and truth 
Contends with darkness, and there is no peace. 
Our very bodies are but phantoms formed 
Of that same darkness that we must oppose^ 
And we must fight ^ if nothing else y ourselves. 

Idbm^ III^ 2. 



CHARACTERS. 



Cecil. Professor in a College, a Candidate for the 

highest Judicial Office of the State, to 
be appointed by its Governor and con- 
firmed by its Senate. Also a particular 
friend and the instructor of Celia. 

Kraft. Head Politician of the ruling party of the 

State, and a particular friend of Madam 
Cecil. Celia has been the adopted 
daughter of his deceased wife. 

Freeman. A young Law Student, friend of Cecil and 

Celia, and in love with Faith Hycher. 

Blaver. Religious Exhorter, and Head of the Pro- 

hibition party of the State. Particular 
friend of Miss Primwood. 

Father Hycher. Head of the Church party of the State 
who wish to obtain a division of the 
School Fund. Uncle of Faith Hycher, 
and particular friend of Widow Hycher, 
his sister-in-law. 

Lowe. A Quaker, representing a syndicate of rail- 

way monopolists who are pushing a plan 
for appropriating and improving a part 
of the chief city of the State. 

Jem. a colored servant. 



304 CHARACTERS. 

Celia. Adopted daughter of deceased wife of 

Kraft. Pupil and particular friend of 
Cecil ; also friend of Freeman. 

Cecilia. An idealized Celia, appearing throughout 

the dream in Act Second. — To be acted 
by the same one who acts Celia. 

Madam Cecil. Wife of Cecil, particular friend of Kraft 

Faith Hycher. In love with Freeman, niece of Father 
Hycher and step-daughter of Widow 
Hycher. 

Miss Primwood. Principal of a Female Seminary, particular 
friend of Blaver. 

Widow Hycher. Step-mother of Faith Hycher, particular 
friend of her brother-in-law. Father 
Hycher. 

Madam Lowe. Quakeress, wife of Lowe. 

MiLLY. A colored servant. 



A Physician, Choristers, Promenaders, Dancers, 
Populace, Ruffians, Detectives, Militia, etc. 



CECIL THE SEER. 



ACT FIRST. 

Scene: An evening party at the home of the Cecils. 
A large hall or parlor. Backing at the Right, ex- 
tending diagonally across the stage, a wide doorway, 
beyond which is a glimpse of a porch and garden. 
Further forward on the Right, a small table about 
which are three chairs. Further forward still, be- 
twee7i the place of the Right Second and the Right 
Front Entrances, a bay window containing a sofa, 
and apparently hiding those seated upon it from the 
view of others in the hall. Backing at the Left, 
extending diagonally across the stage, a wide door- 
way, beyond which is a glimpse of another room. 
Entrances : Right Upper, through the door- 
way ; Right Third, through a long win- 
dow open from the floor up ; and Right 
Front, through a doorway. Left Upper, 
through a doorway, and Left Second, 
through a doorway. 



3o6 



CECIL THE SEER. 



Curtain rising discloses Freeman and Father 

Hycher sitting in the day window, and 

couples walking to and fro upon the 

stage. 

Father Hycher. My standards are the standards 

of the world, 
Freeman. I know it. 

Father H. You were questioning 

Freeman. Their truth.* 

The forms we see are puppets of a play, 
A dull play too ! Though seek what pulls the 
string, 



* Father H. {slowly and sarcastically). 

Your name is Freeman. 
Freeman. It defines me, yes. 

Father H. You think fidelity to man can 
grow 

From germs of infidelity to God ? 

You think that questioning the forms men most 

Esteem proves high esteem for men themselves ? 

You think in one that weds, or vows to wed. 

To love a third one proves true love for all ? 
Freeman. That all depends on what he does. 
Father H. And that ? 

Freeman. On what he is. Why ask these things 
of me ? — 

And here ? 
Father H. Why should I not ? We see so much 

In scenes like this ? 
Freeman. Oh, no ! — you mean so little. 



CECIL THE SEER. 30/ 

No longer is it dull. A button breaks, 

A veil falls off 

Father H. Too bad to hope for that ! 

Freeman. Too bad, if lives be bad ! If not, too 
good ! 
Some things that on the outside seem profane, 
Upon the inside may be sacred. 
Father H. Ah ? 

Freeman, The converse too is true. 
Father H. {haughtily). 

You mean to say ? — 
{Music starts^ 
Freeman {risings as does Father Hycher.) 
That all should watch the play, and not forget 
That they themselves are part of it. 
Father H. Oh, yes. 

Exit — Right Front — after bowing to Freeman., 
Father H. (Freeman moves toward the 
Right Upper Entrance. A part of 
the following is sung accompanied by a 
piano apparently in the rooms beyond the 
Left Upper Entrance. During the sing- 
ing certain of those upon the stage ^ or enter- 
ing from its various entrances^ dance to 
the music). 

We live but for bubbles, and those who know 
The way of the world their bubbles will blow. 
Ay, all but whose doings are fated to be 
No more than are drops in an infinite sea. 



308 CECIL THE SEER, 

Will blow them, and show them, till, by and by. 
They fill and float to the air on high ; 
Hoho ! hoho ! and the world will thus 
Know how big a bubble can come from us. 

We live but for bubbles that grow and glow 
The bigger and brighter the more we blow ; 
And, borne on the breath of the breeze around 
Wherever the tides of the time are bound, 
There is nothing of earth or of heaven in sight 
But they image it all in a rainbow light ; 
Hoho ! hoho ! and the world will thus 
Know how bright a bubble can come from us. 

We live but for bubbles a-dance in the blast, 
But who can tell how long they will last ? 
So swell your cheeks, and puff, and fan. 
And make the most of them while you can, 
For if ever the breath in them fail, they will pop. 
And only be drizzles to dry as they drop ; 
Hoho ! hoho ! and the world will thus 
Be done with the bubbles that come from us. 

Enter — Right Upper — duri7ig the singing^ 
Faith. She 7neets Freeman and, after a 
time, they sit in the hay window at the 
Right. 
Exeunt — at differe7it Entrances — the daiicers or 
singers. 
Faith. This night seems like B.fHe in fairy-land.^ 
Freeman. You note its meaning then ? 

'^ That chorus proves it so. I like to see 
Our Cecil circled by the people singing. 



CECIL THE SEER. 3O9 

Faith. What ? 

Freeman. Cecil-worship.^ 

Faith. How so ? 

Freeman. Our state is lacking a Chief Justice. 

Faith And what of that ? 

Freeman. His is a high position.* 

If any idol's niche be tenantless, 
The one all worship is the one all want there. 

Faith. Oh yes ! — and Madam Cecil 

Freeman. Drawing hither 

The undirected flow of current thought, 
Though little rills, may find them, all together, 
Enough to float the bark of her ambition. 
You see this house — and she herself — are gems. 
For setting, gems need gold. Her husband earns * 
By teaching, at the most, no gold to spare. 



' Faith. And worship is the interest men pay 

For worth when they can get it — justly due 

To men of principle. 
Freeman. And how of women ? 

This Madam Cecil is the priestess here. 

The fee is hers ; and he, the puppet-idol. 

^ She, who is always looking upward, sees it. 
Faith. That may be ; but you spoke of worship. 
Freeman. Why, 

^ By teaching in the college, at the most, 
No gold to spare ; and, even did she hope. 
From her own managing, no perquisites 



3IO CECIL THE SEER. 

Faith. Will Cecil get the place? 

Freeman. The governor 

May nominate him; but the senators 
Can scarcely be expected to confirm, 
Without some reason not upon the surface, 
A man so young and inexperienced. 

Faith. But he is worthy of it. 

Freeman. What is worth 

With those that she will try to get to push him? 
Their favors must be paid for. Most have suits 
They sue for in the law-courts. Think you Cecil, 
An upright, downright and straightforward 

nature, 
Will twist and smirk with twenty different faces 
The twenty different ways that these would have 
him? 

Faith. It were a brilliant chance! 

Freeman. Yes, far too brilliant 

For moths to meet with, and escape a scorching. 
No wick-light dazzles him. He knows the sun. 

Faith {looking toward the Left). 
Look — Madam Cecil now — 

Freeman {rising). And angels too, 

They say, draw near us when we talk of them. 

Faith {also rising). With her comes Kraft. 

Freeman. The ruler of his party, — 

Controls the governor. 

Faith. What perquisites ? 

Freeman. The kind that make us call 



CECIL THE SEER. 3II 

Faith. Ah! And Cecil, then, — 

Are he and Kraft such friends? 

Freeman. No; she and Kraft, 

A man that she so floods with flattery 
That his half drowned, asphyxied reason raves 
Past all resisting her. Beside this too. 
He means, they say, to seat that son of his 
In Cecil's present chair. Your men that rule, 
When others hold the place that they would fill, 
Tramp an inferior, and push off an equal; 
But if some scheme they basely brew be spoiled 
By one above them, — they are left no option; 
But, like a cover, they must lift him higher. 
So, by their very righteousness, you see 
The righteous force their foes to do them justice. 
Exeunt — Right Front — Freeman and Faith. 
Enter — Left Upper — Kraft with Madam Cecil. 

Madam C. Your charming son — 

Kraft. Gains charms from you who say that — 

Madam C. And with his noble brow, and eyes, 
and manners — 

Kraft. Yes ; he is like his — mother. 

Madam C. Why, my friend, 

His mien, his manner are as like to yours. 
As ever were the echoes of a wood 
To singing of a woodsman. 



A public man " His Honor," lest the world 
Might fail to recognize it, if not labeled. 



312 CECIL THE SEER, 

Kraft. Oh, you flatter !— ^ 

I wish your husband could be led — 
Madam C. You think 

He cannot then ? 
Kraft. Why that depends — 

Madam C. On whom ? — 

A good judge is a man whose judgments you 
Approve. 
Kraft {bowing to her). 

Thanks for your interest. 
Enter — Left Second — Mr. Blaver with Miss Prim- 
wood. 
Madam C. {continuing to Kraft). 

Why that 
Becomes me, — does it not?— Have you not 

said 
I always do, as well as wear, the thing 
That seems becoming ? — and the principal 
{touching Kraft with her fan ; then pointing it tO' 
ward herself) 
Should always draw its interest. Not so ? — 
{turning to speak to Miss Primwood and Blaver, 
who carries a pamphlet in his hand.) 



* Madam C. And pardon, if I add both have their 

music. 
Kraft. No, no ; but Madam Cecil, you do flatter ! 
Madam C. Not half so much, my good friend, as 

your mirror. 



CECIL THE SEER, 313 

Miss Primwood, ah ! Good-evening — You too, 
Deaoon ; 
{All bow. Kraft talks aside to Miss Primwood. 
Madam Cecil continues to Blaver, tapping 
his pamphlet with her fan^ 
We read your little prohibition tracts. 
Blaver. Yes? — Thanks. — Yet, as you say, they 

are but little. 
Madam C. The littlest diamond in this ring I 
wear 
Is better for my humble, human use, 
Than a whole world of dust whirled in a star 
Set in an orbit out beyond my reach. 
Blaver. If, in some humble way, my tracts do 

good — 
Madam C. The littlest bird-track, sometimes, in 
the sand 
May make one think of wings flown out of sight. 
Blaver. If only mine would — wings of progress, 

wings — 
Madam C. Ah, but your cause is right. 
Blaver. Yes, all our pleas 

Are based upon religion. Yet you know 
The lower courts are hostile. 

When you but face — 
Kraft. And find it very bright ? — 

But now, about my son : I think — I think — 
Madam C. What I think. Do we ever disagree ? 
Kraft. I wish your husband, etc. 



314 CECIL THE SEER. 

Exeunt — Left — Miss Prim wood and Kraft. 

Madam C. Right must win. 

Blaver. You think so ? — The professor too ? — "^ 

Enter — Left Second — Father Hycher with Widow 

Hycher. 

(Madam C, noticing them, then insinuatingly to 

Blaver.) 

You think 
A man, reUgious truly, would not stand 
Upon a platform based upon religion 1 

(Madam C. and Blaver bow to Father H. 
and Widow Hycher. Blaver talks 
aside to Widow H. and, with her, pres- 
ently, exits at the Left — Madam C. coU' 
tinues talking to Father Hycher). 
You act like saints we read of in the legends, 
With holy air about them. As you enter, 
Our thoughts turn toward religion. 
Father H. Ah ? — with mine ! — ^ 

I saw you at the church, the other day. 
Madam C. I heard the Father was to preach — 



' Madam C. {assuming an air of disparagement). 

Come, come ; 

No man should anchor trust in such as he, 

Why your opponents never 

Blaver {eagerly). Would support him ? — 

They never vi^ould ? 
Madam C. How^ could they ? Do you know. 



CECIL THE SEER. 315 

Father H. And came ? — 

Madam C. To be a worshipper. 

Father H. You think perhaps, 

That we make less of preaching than of praise. 
Madam C. Now, honestly, I do admire your 

form. 
Father H. I like to see you give it countenance. 

But, really. Madam Cecil, you are right. 

We must have form : — all eyes, ears, crave it so. 

The only question, as I say, is this — 

Which form is the 

Madam C. The form the most emphatic, 

One might call the form. 
Father H. Right, just right again !- 

In schools, asylums, prisons, everywhere 

That faith should be impressed 

Madam C. There one should use 

The most impressive form. 
Father H. Why, why, how strange ! 

Just what I told your husband ! 
Madam C. [laughing significantly). You have 
learned 



That only last night, when some friends were here 

And talking of the governorship, he said 

Our next might be a prohibitionist. 
Blaver {^greatly pleased, rubbing his hands). 

Is that so ? Really !— Is that so ? Why, why !— 
Madam C. {tapping him with her fait). You may be 
governor yet. You may, you may ! — 



3l6 CECIL THE SEER, 

A woman's thoughts are echoes/ 
Father H. No — but I— 

How could I think my words had had such 
weight ? 
Madam C. Words are a currency that owe their 
worth 
Less to their substance, often, than their source.' 
Father H. I did not think I had such influence. 
Madam C. Nor does the sun. It never thinks at all ; 
Yet keeps the whole world whirling — by its 

light ?— 
No, no, — by its position. 
Father H. If the courts 

Had only sense to recognize the wrong 
Of taxing our schools to support a rule 
From which our own religion is ruled out — 
Madam C. And on your side are many senators ? — 

And they confirm the judges .? 
Father H. What of that ? 

^ and she echoes 
The thoughts that have been nearest his heart too 
To whom she stands the nearest. 

^ Father H. Your husband, then, you think 

Madam C. A man that knows 

Enough to judge a beaker by its brand v 

'° Freeman {to Faith). 

See Madam Cecil. How her ribboned form 
Bends o'er the black coats ! — like a bow of promise 
Above thick cloud-banks. Each one thinks he sees 



CECIL THE SEER. 317 

Madam C. Why, Father, sometimes I have played 
at whist ; 

And when my partner holds the cards that win 

Enter — Right Front — Freeman and Faith, pres- 
ently seating themselves in the bay window. 
Enter — Left Seco7id — Lowe carrying a map- 
like plan of streets^ parks, etc. Other 
Gentlemen enter with him. All sur- 
round Madam C. 
Father H. {to Madam C). 

What then ? 
Madam C. Then I play low — play whist. 
Father H. Ha ! ha ! ^° 

Exit — Left Upper — Father Hycher. 
Madam C. {looking over 'Low^'^ plans). 

This line here is the river bank, — not so ? 
Lowe. And here the railway ; and the park is here. 

And here the church {pointing). 
Madam C. The church .? 

Lowe. You know with me 

Religion is the chief consideration. 

Those of his own cloth fly at Cecil's bidding 

Like crows where grows but shall not grow a harvest. 

Oh, to be popular, just let one be 

Abulge with promise, pledging everything. 

Till time present him his protested bills, 

The world will fawn and paw him like a cur 

To do his bidding. Promise is a flea : 

It makes us itch ; but fools us, would we catch it. 



3l8 CECIL THE SEER. 

Madam C. I know; but yet a friend — ? 
Lowe. The company 

Are world's folk, — will not build a meeting. So 
We would not quarrel with them: we build this. 
Madam C. Yes. How considerate ! " Is there 
much doubt 
Of your success ? 
Lowe. Oh no — not if the courts 

Remove the injunction of the district's owners. 
Madam C. But that will follow. As my husband 
says, 
The corner stones of monumental deeds 
Must always crush some worms ; and plans like 
these 

{laughing good-naturedly) 
Are monumental — even in their size ! 
We ought to find a table for them here. 
(gesturing toward the Left?) 
Exeunt — Left Second — Madam C, Lowe 
and other Gentlemen. 
Freeman {to Faith). 

This is a swindle shrewdest of them all, — 



" Lowe. I wish to be so. 

Madam C. But no one lives here yet ? 
Lowe. In time some will. 

Madam C. And, for their future good, you build 

the church ? 
Lowe. Yet some do not approve it. 
Madam C Is there doubt 



CECIL THE SEER. 319 

A syndicate that steals the river-bank ; 

Then taxes doubly those they steal it from ^^ 

But look you — there is Cecil, and with Celia. 
{poiniing toward Left Upper Entrance. ) 

How indiscreet his kindness toward that ward 

Of Kraft! — Kraft who could make him judge, 
and who 

Abhors her, treats her like a slave, they say. 
Faith. Why so? 

Freeman. He has his reasons. 

Faith {rising). Do you know them? 

(Freeman rising and shrugging his shoulders.) 

Some say that you admired her once. 
Freeman. I did. 

Before my eyes met you 

Faith. This never can be. 

My uncle's honor and mine own are pledged. 
Freeman. But honor helping none and harming 
self, 



^^ For what is left them. But the abuse is old. 
Where thrived ambition yet, but strove to build 
Itself a monument by heaping up 
That which, when lost, made hollow all about it ! 
How many castles I have seen in Europe, 
Where every graceful touch in breadth and height 
That formed the great hall's pride, seemed under- 
lined 
As if by shadovs^ finger-prints of force 
That snatched all from the hamlet at its base ! 



320 CECIL THE SEER. 

Need never serve the body of a vow 
From which the life to which it vowed has flown. 
Exeunt — Right First — Faith and Freeman. 
Enter — Left Upper Entrance — Celia and Cecil. 
Cecil. Must leave off study, Celia ? 
Celia. So it seems. 

Cecil. To be their brightest, minds need bur- 
nishing ; 
And earth needs all the light that we can give it/^ 
Celia. What can a woman give ? 
Cecil. A great deal, Celia. 

You know the crystal globes clairvoyants look in, 
And think they see as heaven sees then ? — Some 
women. 

^^ Celia. I know — were I not so opposed — were I 
Not, say, a woman. What can woman do ? 

Cecil. Do Celia, do ? 

Celia. Why, yes — what starts with her ? 

Cecil. No matter what. Men sow the seed, you think. 
How could it grow, were it to find no soil ? 
You know the crystal globes, etc. 

'^ Celia. The sun may find 

Its image in the dullest pool. 
Cecil. To be 

Too modest, is to lag behind, and break 

God's lines, who ranks us right. 
Celia. But eyes, they say, 

Made free to roam round all the world of thought 

Find views too strange 

Cecil, To those not free to roam ? — 



CECIL THE SEER, 32 1 

Have crystal souls. One faces them to find 

His thoughts divine, himself akin to God. 

Celia. If that be woman's nature 

Cecil. It is not, 

Till polished in the friction of the schools, 

Which some think needless ; but where woman's 
mind 

Has never been made bright, the thoughts of men 

Will never flash for it.^* 
Celia. The thoughts of men 

Would never flash at all, unless inspired 

From heaven above — 
Cecil. By those who came from it ? 

Celia. I think, at times, the souls that shall live 
there, 

Who envy what they cannot see themselves ? 

Celia. They say such hate what does not aid religion. 

Cecil. Aid whose, and what ? — their own ? — and are 
they sure 
They do not make themselves their lords, forsooth. 
Because they wish to lord it over others ? 

Celia It may have been my fault — I had a dream — 

Cecil. And you are blamed for dreaming ? 

Celia. No ; I told it 

Cecil. Another Joseph ! — indiscreet, I see. 

You should have known we all at heart are Tartars; 
And value most the beauty of the spirit, 
When, like the Tartar's daughter, it is veiled. — 
And yet, if unveiled once, why not for me ? 

Celia. My dream awoke a whim. I said I thought. 



322 CECIL THE SEER, 

Have lived there, too, before ; and, born on earth, 
Fill spheres to which their own deeds destined 

them 

Cecil. Not Adam's — Eve's ? 



Celia. Had my deeds been an Eve's, 

My present life might rightly be a slave's. 
Cecil. You like strong language, Celia, — be a 

slave's ? 
Celia. Note my complexion — ^who think you my 

mother ? — 
Cecil. What, what ? — Kraft never claimed you as a 

slave ? 
Celia. Nor will, perhaps ; but he has threatened it ; 

And even the suggestion of this here — 
Cecil But why suggest it? 

That, if a soul must live hereafter, why, 

It must have lived before. — You know the Christ 

Did not rebuke those who confessed they thought 

Elias had returned ; but, in an age 

When all believed he might return, confirmed them. 

And then our creed — Where can it come to pass, — 

The body's resurrection ? 

Cecil. Where ? 

Celia. Where but 

In that new earth of Hebrew prophecies ? — 
Which would have but misled, had those that heard 
Not had it in their power themselves to be 
Restored to life in that restored estate. 

Cecil. Seems life so bright then ? — You would live 
it over ? 

Celia. No, no ; so sad that I would solve its reason. 



CECIL THE SEER. 325 

Celia. I alone have seen 

The writings that were left him by his wife, — 

Her wish to free her slaves 

Cecil. Oh, what a worm 

Is greed for gold ! Did ever human fruitage 
Turn into rot but this greed gnawed the core ? — 
Was there a will ? 

(Celia nods slightly?) 

You are in danger, yes. 
Celia. A wretch has come, as vile as he is 
ugly ; 

And if I were the charmer of a snake, 

I could not shrink from touch more horrible. 

Cecil. And what of him ? 

Celia. Why, I must go with him; 

Indeed, have been forbidden to come here. 

If we have lived before, we all are born 

In spheres to which our own deeds destine us. 
Cecil. Not Adam's ? 
Celia. Each one may have been an Adam ; 

And therefore made a slave now. 
Cecil. You a slave ? 

Celia. I must find some one — let me tell it you : 

To him, whose wife, ere death, was more to me 

Than mother, I am naught. 
Cecil. But others prize you. 

A jewel is not judged by what surrounds it. 
Celia. And yet a jewel might be cheaply bartered 

By one who did not prize it. 

Cecil. Bartered ? — You 

Celia. Note my complexion — etc. 



324 CECIL THE SEER. 

Cecil. To-night ? 

Celia. To-night. 

Cecil. Must marry him ? 

Celia. Nay, worse. 

He needs, or says he needs, a housekeeper. 
Cecil. Why, Celia, this is monstrous! Bywhatmeans 

Would Kraft enforce his will ? 
Celia. By force itself ; 

And what he deems my ignorance. 
Cecil. Tell me, child, 

Has Kraft good reasons ? ^^ 
Celia. No ; my race is yours. 

But one needs time to prove it. 
Cecil. Who meanwhile 

Will guard you? 
Celia. Yes — who will? 

Cecil. That son of Kraft? 

Celia. He? — Such a villain, that his daintiest act 

Of kindness is a counterfeited coin 

With which he chaffers and intends to cheat! 

If I were drowning, I would spurn to grasp 

His hand, if it would draw me near himself. 

Better to die at once, when washed and clean, 

Than catch contagion and live on defiled. 
Cecil. You must remain at my house. 
Enter — Left Second — Kraft. 

15 Celia. If he have ? 

Cecil. Why, then, 

By your white soul, and by the work of Christ, 

I stand between you. 



CECIL THE SEER. 32$ 

Kraft (aside). Ceiia here? 

Celia {noticing Kraft). 

I — I — have an engagement. I must go. 
Exit — Left Upper — Celia. 
Kraft {to Cecil). 

I interrupt you. She was 

Cecil {to Kraft). Merely saymg 

That you desire to have her drop her studies. 
Kraft. Well, she must win her bread. 
Cecil. Quite true; but how? 

Kraft. Humph! — my affair! 
Cecil. Why, no; not wholly, — is it? 

Let me relieve you of the charge of her. 

And take it on myself. In two years' time, 

When once she gets to teaching, she can pay me. 
Kraft {sarcastically). Perhaps; but, by the way, 
now, that you speak 

Of teaching, there is no one named, I think, 

For your professorship, in case you leave it. 
Cecil. I have not left it yet. 
Kraft. You may do so. 

If not, too, there are more professorships; 

And I — I have a son. 
Cecil. I see. No doubt 

His claims would have fair hearing. 
Kraft. But if you 

Could recommend him 

Cecil. That would pass for little; 

I know so little of him. 



326 CECIL THE SEER. 

Kraft. But your word 

Cecil. Would, like a bank-note, quickly lose its 
worth 

Were nothing stored behind it, to make true 

The storage it bespeaks." 

Enter — Left Second — A Gentleman, beckoning to 
Kraft ; also Freeman. 

Kraft ^noticing the Gentleman, and bowing to him^ 
and also to Cecil). 

Thanks for your frankness. 
Exeunt — Left Second — Kraft and Gentleman. 
Cecil {to Freeman). 

That son, if Celia judged him rightly, gets 
No honor which my justice can deny him. 



" Kraft. Humph ! I have found 

The men most praised for judgment are the men 
Most echoing others' judgments. Thus, forsooth, 
They make their own appear approved by all. 

Cecil. Not so with me ! Has he experience 
In teaching ? 

Kraft. He has knowledge. 

Cecil. For a teacher, 

A knowledge of mere books does not suffice ; 
He needs a knowledge too of human nature ; 
And sympathy, to make his teaching welcome ; 
And fire, to make it felt ; and tact and skill, 
To aim and temper it for others' needs ; 
And modesty to keep his own acquirements 



CECIL THE SEER. 3^7 

Well, well, I may have ruined all my hopes. 
Let go then! Duty never shone more clear: 
Shall I play slave to Kraft, Lowe, Hycher, 

Blaver ?— 
Sell them the justice that is in my soul 
To seem to deal out justice for the state ? — 
No ; better be God's creature though a worm, 
Than theirs, though they had power to make me 
king ! 
Exit — Left Upper — Cecil and Freeman. 
Dance music. Enter and exeunt at entrances^ 
dancers in couples or in sets. At last^ 
those nearest the Left Upper Entrance 
beckon to the others, and all, as if suddenly 
called away, exeunt at the Left Upper 
Entrance. 

In strict-held servitude to their demands; 
And dignity that comes from honoring truth, 
To crown its bondman as the student's master. 
What think you ? Has he these ? 

Kraft. Has had no chance 

To show 

Cecil. Then why not test him where a failure 

Would not be trumpeted ? A man's best friend 
Will bid him wait for honor till he earn it. 
Amid earth's envious crush of frenzied greed, 
It is no kindness, pushing to the front 
One who is not a leader. Zealous forms 
That crowd him there may tramp him under 
foot. 



328 CECIL THE SEER. 

Enter — Left Second Entrance — Jem, carrying 
a tray with plates and refreshments on it. 
He looks at dancers^ then crosses the stage 
to the bay window^ where, meeting Milly, 
he places the tray on the seat. 
Enter — Right Front Efttrance — Milly, carry- 
ing a tray with glasses containing iced tea 
She too places her tray on a seat in the bay 
window. 
Jem {looking at departing dancers). 

Dey all gone whar de tables is, I reckon, 

{looking at Milly) 
De white folks has de shadders 
Milly. An' dey dance. 

Dance 'hine de white folks' back. 
(Jem and Milly dance.) 
Jem {stretching his hand to take Milly's). 

Oh, heah ! come heah ! 
Milly (drawing back her hand). 

No, no, yer don't. 
Jem (looking sharply at her hand, which she keeps 
clenched). 

" Jem. Ah, dat 's right. 

Milly {putting ear-ring in her pochet). 

Yes, Laud ! 
An' doin' right. 
Jem. All 'cep' dat yer aint dancin'. 

(Jem and Milly dance.) 
Heah, heah now, heah an' heah ! 



CECIL THE SEER. 329 

Now tell me what yer got 
In dat black hoUah dah. 
MiLLY (^jerking her hand away). 

Jes' what yer hasn't. 
Jem. Come, come, now, Milly. Lawd ob all de stahs ! 
Dis heah's a patch ob his own pitchy sky , 
An' hoi's a stah in dah. Whose am it, hey ? 
Milly. Whose ? Mine. 

Jem. Yer'll catch it — libin' deed o' darkness ! 
Milly {throwing an ear-ring from one hand into the 
other). 
Dey'll hab to catch dis fust. 
Jem. Come, yer knows, Milly, 

Dat I'll not gib yer way. Say, whar *d yer get 
it? 
Milly. Why, on de floah. 

Jem. Who drapt it off 'um den ? 

Milly. De folks dat owes us twenty times as 
much 
As dat 'ill fetch us." 



Milly {stopping, and gesturing to Jem, who keeps on 
dancing). 

Now, Jem, yer wait. 
Jem. What fur? 

Milly. 'Case dey '11 fine out. 

Jem. Ugh> dey can't see us. 

Milly. Ole missus 's allers houndin' roun', yer 
knows, 
To fine de niggah. 



330 CECIL THE SEER, 

{Moving and gesturing toward the bay window.) 
Dah. Set down. 
(MiLLY sits in the bay window^ 
Jem {looking at refreshments). An* take 

De crum dat's fallen fro' de rich man's 

table ? — 
Dat'm scripter {he sits down). 

Look heah, Milly. 
MiLLY. What's ter see ? 

Jem. I likes dis cake. It'm sweet, and yet, yer 
knows, 
Dis dahky's lips would like anoder cake. 
{Puckering lips^ as if to kiss her.) 
Milly. Oh, yer go home. 
Jem {looking out of the window). 

No ; it am cold out dah. 
Milly. Den let it shake yer ! yer got one wife 

now. 
Jem. Not one ! De las' 'un, Dinah, 'm sold, yer 

know. 
Milly. Law sakes ! Why, I aint heahd o' dat. 



^^ Jem. Well, dey don't reckon so nuther. 
Milly. What dey reckon, 

Dey show by sellin' Dinah. 

Jem. What yer reckon 

Milly. Is all de number ob yer wives ! 

{bowing ^ Jem.) 
Jem. Yer can't. 



CECIL THE SEER. 331 

Jem. She'm gone — 

Gone like de dark cloud when de night am 

come. 
I'll nebah see her moah. 
MiLLY. Jem, dat am sad 

Jem. An' yer don't reckon dis Jem's meant ter be 

A gem widout a settin' ? 
MtLLY. Dah's de white folks. 

Enter — Left Upper — Blaver and Miss Prim- 
wood. — MiLLY and^^M. rise, taking their 
trays ^^ 
Exit — Right Front Entrance — Jem hurriedly. 
Miss Primwood {catching a glimpse of them, and 
holding up her hands). 
None have religion, none — I tell you none. 
Men are not solemnized as once they were. 
Blaver. No, they are sodomized. You say you 
saw 

( pointing toward the Left. ) 
In Cecil's hand, a reddish-colored dram? 
Miss Primwood. It might have been 

''Is not the man I thought — no proper mate 

For Madam Cecil. She 

Miss Primwood, You think so, eh ?— 

Men never will know women. This is hers — 
Her party — making those not thirsty drink. 
And eat, too, with no appetite, — and dance 
When, prudence knows, they ought to be in 
bed. 



332 CECIL THE SEER. 

Blaver. To those who saw it drunk 

It looked, at least, like liquor. He was not 
Avoiding the appearances of evil/^ 
MiLLY, carrying a tray containing a reddish-colored 

liquid in glasses, stops before Blaver. 
Blaver {to Milly). 

Ah, — ^what is this ? 
Milly. Iced tea. 

Blaver. Why, that will be 

Refreshing, very ! 

{To Miss P.) 
Here! 
(Pointing to chairs surrounding a small table, 
near the bay window, and motioning her to 
sit down). 

Iced tea ! 
{To Milly.) 

Yes, yes. 
(Blaver and Miss P.. sit at the table. Milly 
places two glasses of the reddish-colored 
liquid before them^ 
Blaver {continuing the interrupted conversation). 
Where none wish levity, affairs like this 
Create it. I have known most sober men 
Grow indiscreet — 

{tasting the tea.) 

This is good, yes- — and make 
All that they pray for seem ridiculous. 



CECIL THE SEER. 



333 



Enter — Left and Right — couples walking together. 

Exit — Left Upper — Milly. 

Enter — Right Upper — Jem carrying a tray on which 

are plates containing refreshments to eat. 
Miss Primwood {looking in disapprobation at the 
couples). 
And scenes like this, too, cater to flirtation — 

{looking at two elderly people together?) 
In them so old, too, they should be above it. 

(Miss Primwood's spoo7i that she has been 
using, falls to the floor. — Blaver hands 
Miss P. his spoon that he has not used, at 
the same time picking up Miss P's. spoon 
and significantly placing it in his own cup.) 
Blaver. Precisely ! 

Miss P. Yes, at times, it makes me feel 

Blaver {who evidently has lost the connection of 
thought). 
Flirtation makes you feel ? 
Miss P. {in evident disgust). 

Oh no ; not that ! 
(Jem stands before them with his tray.) 
Blaver {iioticing Jem, and taking plates from his tray 
for Miss P. and himself as if thinking Miss 
P. referred to these). 
Oh yes, I see ! 
Miss P. {disliking his inference with reference to the 
meaning of her former words). 
No, no ! 



334 CECIL THE SEER. 

Blaver {referring to the opiates). 

Not take them ? 
Miss P. These ? 

Oh yes, I thank you. — You mistook my meaning. 

I sometimes think that none should feel at all. 
Exit — Left Upper — Jem. 
Blaver. No, in flirtation none should feel at all. 
Miss P. No, no, no ! not in that — in anything. 

If none would feel, none would have discontent ; 

And that would cure all evils of the time. 
Blaver. Yes, that is true. Why, even small boys 
now, 

Must have small beer 

Miss P. For that will pop, you know! 

Will make a noise! explode monotony! 

Our slaves now even hint of earning wages; 

And girls, once clad in bonnets and in slippers, 

Now strut in hats and boots. 
Blaver. And where, strut where? 

"^^ Blaver. And times that do not like a cackling 
hen, 

And seek to fill their coops with fowl that crow, 

Will not get many eggs. 
Miss P. No, no ; will not ! — 

Think what a scandal, if our highest courts 

Blaver. Should not court women of the highest 

kind. 
Miss P. Precisely ; and o'errule th' iniquity 

That gives free entrance into men's resorts 



CECIL THE SEER, 335 

Miss P. Well put, well put, my friend ! They 
strut for schools 
In which they think and talk like boys and with 
them.'" 
(Blaver ajtd Miss P. continue their conversation 

aside.) 
Enter — Left Upper — Cecil ^;2^ Father Hycher. 
Cecil. Yes, Father Hycher ; but you know our laws 

Have never recognized the churches thus. 
Father H. But we have rights — 
Cecil. To change the laws you have, 

But not to break them. 
Father H. Did one merely waive 

The letter of the law, what could be harmed ? 
Cecil. One's conscience, if he went against the 
law, — 
One's heed of right, — a fact, I take it. Father, 
You ought to see. 
Father H. I do not see it so " ; 

Exit — Left Second — Father H. 

Of maids 

Blaver. That in your school are prized like jewels ! 

^^ And if I did, above it I could see 
A higher law. 

Exit — Left Second— ¥ KlYi.-E.-K H. 
Cecil {looking after him, and soliloquizing). 

Humph, humph ! we live to learn. 
It seems that even formalists like him 
Can see some spirit through a form ; but what ? — 



336 CECIL THE SEER. 

(Cecil moves toward the right near where Blaver 

and Miss P. are sitting. Both rise?) 
Miss P. Professor Cecil, how your ears must burn I 
You know the rumors that are in the wind. 
Cecil {bowing and motioning them to be seated^ 
Trust not in words with wind alone to back them. 
Nothing is quite so empty as the sky 
Behind a blow, when once it has blown by. 
{All sit, Cecil taking a vacant chair at the table?) 
Miss P. That does for you to say; but you two 
friends, 

{bowing to Blaver.) 
Your judgment, 

{bowing to Cecil.) 
and your judgments, when they rule 
Our civil, social, educational ways, 
Will put a close to some things. 
Cecil. To their life? 

Miss P. How you enjoy a joke! — You read, not 
so? 

{gesturing toward ^TuA.Y'E.'R,) 
The deacon's latest work? 
Cecil. To tell the truth, 

1 have not yet 

One time upon a mountain top, I saw 
My own shape magnified on clouds about me. 
How many men in earth's high places find, 
Looming on clouds of false regard about them, 
False forms of self, distorted in their size ! 



CECIL THE SEER. 337 

Miss P. So little interest? — 

Cecil. Of course the question has two sides 

Blaver {aside). 

Two sides? — 
It has but one. I see — he is not with us. 

Miss P. The great book of the age ! 

Blaver {to Miss P). 

You flatter me. 
{to Cecil). 
She likes my essay, since, on general grounds, 
As I detail the duties of the state, 
I argue prohibition by the whole 
Of all things detrimental to the part. 
Applying this, not only to the cause 
To which my life is pledged, but with this, too, 
To questions like the giving of instruction 
To slaves, and free tuition to poor whites. 
And throwing open to our girls and women 
The State schools, not the ones to train their sex. 
It is my proving of this latter point 
Enlists her praise, whose long — 

(Miss P. straightens up and draw back.) 

no, I mean wide — 
Whose wide experience, as the principal 
Of our first female college, seals her right 

To waken such to their own true position, 
Thank heaven for precipices ! When they fall, 
Their views of God and self, turned upside down, 
May bring, at last, conversion. 



338 CECIL THE SEER, 

To criticise all efforts of the State 

To train our girls in different schools from hers." 
Miss P. Oh, you must read his book! — will like 
it too; 

If but for what it says of slaves and women. 
Cecil, You class the two together? I should not. 
{aside) 

How women love their fetters! — Best, perhaps! 

They make sweet slaves, but very bitter masters. 
Miss P. You would not open then our college-doors 

To women ? 
Cecil. Why not ? 

Miss P. Why, our boys and girls 

Might think of love ! 
Cecil. That would be no new thing ; 

And, being wont to walk in love, when young, 

They might be much less prone to fall in love, 

In ways not wise, when older. 
Miss P. But their minds 

^^ Cecil (^;^ good-natured banter). 

Ah, yes, I see. The same boat floats you both. 
You pull together. Friends are worth the having 
Who best can serve themselves when serving us. 

23 Miss P. Always ? 

Cecil. No ; 

But oftener, yes much oftener so, than elsewise. 

Where true love is the treasure to be sought, 

One glimpse of nature is a better guide 

Than all the forms of calculating art 



CECIL THE SEER. 339 

Are so unlike ! — 

Cecil. And never can be matched 

Until they learn to share each other's aims. 
Souls are not mated when two forms of flesh 
Join hands, or merely share each other's arms. 

Miss P. And you would have them like each 
other ? 

Cecil. Yes. 

It seems important if they are to marry. 
Like ought to go with like. And paths that push 
Young men and maids together, whet their wits 
And make their weddings wise ones.^^ 

Miss P. One scarce 

Would think you had so much romance in you.^* 

Cecil. Romance is but the day-time of the soul 
Well sunned by love, beneath which, when we 

dwell, 
Each act of duty and each thought of truth 
Is haloed with a light that seems like heaven's. 

That ever powdered an instinctive flush, 
Or rouged pale hate, in any masquerade 
That men call good society. 

^* Cecil. All have romance, if only they have soul. 

They differ but in their expressions of it. 
Enter — Left Upper — Jem with tray holding more 

refreshments. 
Miss P. And most of them believe, with Deacon 
Blaver, 
It should not be expressed in schools. 
Cecil. Why not ? 



340 CECIL THE SEER. 

To spirits rightly moved, the whole of life, 
Home, school, religion — all lead through ro- 



Exit — Left Upper Entrance — Madam Cecil, 
and Lowe, carrying his plans ^ also Free- 
man. 
Madam Cecil {bowing to Miss P. and Blaver, then 
speaking to Cecil. All three rise.) 

^^ (Jem speaks aside to Cecil.) 
Cecil (rising). 

(Blaver and Miss P. rise while Cecil gestures 
toward chairs, Jem and the refreshments.^ 
Oh, pray be seated, and take more. 
Miss P. Thanks. 

Blaver. Thanks. 

(Jem removes from table the empty glasses and plates 
and substitutes full ones?) 
Miss P. And do you then approve, do you admire 
Lean, short-haired women, and lank, long-haired 

men. 
Exchanging shawls and coats, and stripping life 
Of character, to make it caricature ? 
Exit — Left Upper Entrance — Jem. 
Cecil. I do not much admire the straw in spring 
That forms the spread of flower-beds ; but 

beneath 
Sleep summer's fairest offspring. What you moot 
May show two sides. A man may be run down 
Amid the clash and clangor of a street, 



CECIL THE SEER. 34 1 

Oh, here you are ! Come look at these — 
(Pointing to 'Lovf'E.^spla7is.) 

these plans. 
Are just the thing the city needs. We two 
Were searching all the house for you. 
Cecil {replying partly to Madam C. and partly speak- 
ing to Lowe). 

I see. 



Because one ear is deaf. In any path, 
The rush of life may run down all who hear 
But on one side. 

Enter — Right Upper Entrance — Freeman. 
Miss P. But when one side is right. 

Cecil. The right is that to which the world moves 
on. 
You cross its track t > stop it ; it moves on, 
You fall. 
(Cecil bows and turns toward Freeman. Blaver and 
Miss P. bow, then reseat themselves.) 
Miss P. And this he does not mean to do 

For my cause or for yours. Trust me for that. 
Blaver. His friends must see he does not get so 
high 
That falling far will hurt him. 

(Blaver and Miss P. continue to eat and 
drink, and talk aside, till, after a little, 
'El.KV'E.^ points vigorously toward the Right 
Second Entrance. Then both rise, taking 
plates and glasses with them, and exeunt 
at Right Second Entrance.) 



342 CECIL THE SEER. 

Lowe {pointing to a part of the plati). And see the 

church here ? 
Cecil. Oh ! is that the church ? 

But I thought you a friend ? 
Lowe. The company 

Are world's folk — will not build a meeting. So 

We would not quarrel with them. We build this. 

Exeunt — Right Second — Miss P. and Blaver. 
Freeman. Ah yes ! 
Lowe. With me religion is the chief 

Consideration. Think how poor our life 

Would be without religion. 
Freeman. Be less rich, 

You think. 
Lowe. Just so; for there is nothing like 

A church to elevate the character 

Freeman. Of real estate. 

Lowe. Yes, and of people, too.'* 



2^ Freeman. No people live here yet ? 

Lowe. Ah, but they will 

Freeman. If you do what is right to draw them 
here. 

To build a church is right — not so ? — and right 

Is your religion. 
Lowe. Yes ; but one might think 

His motives were not rightly understood 

{looking toward Cecil). 

You like the plans then ? 
Freeman. Oh, he must — as plans. 



CECIL THE SEER. 



343 



Cecil. Quite true. 

Lowe (to Cecil). Am glad to meet your approba- 
tion. 
Cecil {taking the plans in his hands).'^'' One can- 
not fully take these in at first. 
I must have time in which to look them over. 
Exit — Right Third Entrance — Freeman. 
Enter — Right Upper Entrance — Jem. 
Madam C. {to Lowe, as if with a covert meaning'). 
I must have time to look them over with him. 
{^She motions toward Jem, to whom Cecil 
hands the plans, at the same time motion- 
ing to him to take them to the Left. Jem 
turns?) 
Exit — Left Second Entrance — Jem. 
( When Cecil and Madam C. turn toward ^ym, Lowe 
turns toward the Right Third Entrance. ) 



They plan so far ahead. 
Lowe. A man who sees 

A mountain in his path that must be climbed, 
Will make more effort. Effort is our need. 
With such a plan as this, our friends will know 
We need more money, and will find us more. 

2'' Cecil. Not that, quite that ! Men take too many 
chances 
In drawing facts from fancies. I shall need 



344 CECIL THE SEER. 

Lowe (to Himself), 

And when the time comes that he needs a friend, 

May I take him in, and look over him. 
Exit — Right Third Entrance — Lowe. 
Madam C. {to Cecil, and evidently annoyed to see 
Lowe leaving them). 

Kraft, Hycher, Lowe and Blaver, — all, to-night, 

All frown at things that you have said to them. 

Why will you always give these men offense ? 
Cecil. Because I give them truth. 
Madam C. Truth is for fools. 

Cecil. I give it to them. 

Madam C. Humph ! It comes from fools. 

Cecil. Yes, if they think men want it. I do not. 

They only need it. 
Madam C. Need ? What for ? 

Cecil. Their good — 

Their own, and — say — humanity's. 
Madam C. The good 

All seek from men like you, is leadership. 

But he who leads men up, himself must mount 



28 Cecil {kindly). 

Come, come, your wishes, like wild steeds, 
escape 

The reining of your reason, and may wreck it. 

Why wish a station higher than we have ? 
Madam C. For you — your influence. 
Cecil. Nay, in that you err. 



CECIL THE SEER. 345 

Where he appears above them. 
Cecil. How and where 

He mounts, depends on that in which he leads. 
A leader in the truth would better kneel 
Upon the footstool of a throne, than sit 
Upon it, crowned by falsehood. 
Madam C. Would you were, 

But what I thought you were when we were wed ! ^^ 
A woman wrecked at sea, would better lash 
The anchor to her throat, than try to breast 
The waves of life in such a world as this, 
Wed to a man without ambition. She 
Could not sink sooner. 
Cecil (^gazing and gesturing at their surroundings). 

Do you sink, my wife. 
With such surroundings ? 
Madam C. Yes, for power and wealth 

Both loom before you. When I tell it you, 
And strive to urge you toward them, you, blind 

loot, 
Squat, blinking like an owl ; or, if you stir, 



True words alone are weapons of true thought. 
If I be free to use these, I am free 
To be truth's champion. If, to gain the place 
You wish me, or to hold it, being gained, 
I let my tongue be tied, I live a slave. 
Madam C. 

A woman wrecked, etc. 



34^ CECIL THE SEER, 

But flutter, blunder, miss your aim, and fall 
From off the very branch, the topmost branch, 
You ought to perch upon. 
Cecil. Alas, my wife, 

I thought you loved me for the man I was. 
I never wrought or wished for wealth. 
Madam C. Oh, drone, 

That I could sting you, as do bees their drones 
That make no honey ! 
Cecil. You do sting at times. 

That pleases you? — But you have better 

moods, 
I never could have thought I loved you else. 
Why blame my soul, because it must be true 
To higher aims and higher influence? 
If, seeking these, this world's promotion come. 
Let come! I take it then by right divine. 
Madam C. Fanatic! Do you think in men's mad 
rush, 
Each toward his own life's goal, they wrest the 

power 
That makes another serve them, without work? — 
Skill ? shrewdness ? tact ? and forcing to the 

wall, 
Or down the precipice, each weaker rival? 
Cecil. I do, if power that crowns them come from 

God. 
Madam C. The power that crowns one with suc- 
cess on earth 



CECIL THE SEER. 347 

Is earthly. Keen men know this. Not, not God : 

The devil rules the world. 
Cecil. God overrules it. 

Madam C. In far results, but in the near ones 



never 



Cecil. Then look to far results. Transferring 
there 
These transient whims,— ah you will find them 

melt, 
Like summer mist, while, rock-bound under them, 
Each goal remains that your true nature 

craves. 
Why seek for riches, when we have enough? 
Madam C. Enough! Oh, sluggard! Have we 

that? 
Cecil. We have — 

Enough for comfort, not enough for care ; 
Enough to make us grateful for the wage 
Rewarding earnest work ; but not enough 
To bind long habit to their fate whose course 
While serving earth has made them slaves to it. 
The peace of life crowns competence, not wealth. 
The wise man wants no more. 
Madam C, But woman does. 

£xit — Left Second Entrance — Madam Cecil. 
Cecil. Then let no wise man marry. Cursed 
fate !— 
This trudging on and on in paths of right, 
And knowing every pace takes one more stride 



348 CECIL THE SEER, 

Away from all one loves ! — From all one loves ? — 
No, no ; — from all that, once, one thought he loved. 
Oh, cruel customs of a cruel world, 
Which damn us for those dreams that seem to be 
Our holiest inspirations ! Cruel dreams, 
That never prove delusions, till the world 
Welds bonds for us that death alone can break ! 
And cruel bonds that make all happiness, 
In one so bound, impossibility, 
Unless he live a sneak's life — who is this ? 
Enter — Right Second Entrance — Celia. 
Why, Celia ! 

Celia. I have come to tell you, friend, 
The man I fear is here. I saw his face, 
And like a thunder-cloud foretelling storm 

Cecil. Come first where we shall not be overheard. 

Exeunt — Left Upper Entrance — Cecil and Celia. 

Enter — Right Upper Entrance — Freeman and 

Faith. 

Freeman. You love me, Faith. Your manner 
tells me so. 



^^ Faith. I would not give you up so, save to 
wed 
A holier spouse. 

Freeman. Yet one that is, at times, 

A Moloch, clasping in his arms of fire 
Desires he kindles, but can never quench. 

Faith. Oh, Freeman, when you speak, I tremble 



CECIL THE SEER. 349 

Faith. Your rival, Freeman, is no man, mere man. 
Freeman. You are deceived. You vow through 
— to~a man. 
And he will treat you — how? — His door is locked : 
He holds the key. Your uncle, though a priest, 
Has eyes upon your wealth. The thing is proved. 
Your dying father feared this. Faith, I know 
His wish for you. Trust him, trust me, your 

friend, 
Disrobed of mystery, save th' eternal one 
Which thrills us now, whom heaven has made for 
mates.^ 
Enter — Left Second Entrance — Father Hycher. 
Father H. {to Faith). 

What ? — Have I warned you, Faith, so many 

times ? 
And you still parley with this infidel ? — 
Obey me now ! — Away, no more of this ! 

(Faith moves toward Left Upper Entrance — 
Freeman starts to follow her. Father 
Hycher calls to hifn.) 



You fill my soul with fears for you ; but, ah, 
With fears that are so sweet, again I fear 
That my own soul is what I most should fear. 
Freeman. The wise fright off their fears by facing 
them. 
Will you not be my bride ? Be this and use 
Your freedom as your father would have wished. 



350 CECIL THE SEER. 

You will not follow her ? — 

Exit — Left Upper Entrance — Faith. 
Freeman. No ? — wherefore not ? 

Father H. I am her uncle. 

Freeman. Not her father, though ! 

Father H. Her spirit's — I direct her steps. 
Freeman. Step-father ? — 

In that role men like you are just ideal ! 

But I am, that which you are not — her friend. 



^^ And she has wealth, and you have use for it. 
Father H. And you think you have none ! Oho, 
young man, 

When you have read yourself, you may be heard 

When trying to read others. But we waste 

Our time. I am her guardian ; and you 

Should act the gentleman. 
Freeman. Which when I act, 

I shall not take my lessons all from you. 
Father H. Take this at least. — A gentleman is 
one 

Who never does the unexpected. 
Freeman. Well, 

By that test you can pass. I grant it you. 

All you have done has been in character. 

You call me infidel ; but, Father Hycher, 

The infidel is one who does not trust 

The power that made and moves the soul within. 

If Faith did not desire another life 

Than you have planned, you might be wise and 
kind. 



CECIL THE SEER. 351 

Father H. You are a young man with a young 

man's dreams. 
Freeman. You are an old man ; and an old man 

schemes.^" 
Father H. Humph, humph, my friend ! You 

may regret this yet. 
Exit — Left Second Entrance — Father Hycher. 
Enter Left Upper Entrance — Cecil and Celia. 



Father H. Poor youth, when you know more 

about the world 

Freeman. I shall know more about such men a 
you; 
Know how the dust of earth can make one blind, 
And din can make one deaf, till skies can blaze 
And heaven's voice thunder, yet no sight nor 
sound 

Reach 

Father H. {sarcastically). 

What ?— 
Freeman. What was a soul ! But there are souls 
Are stolen too when stoled. The devil's hand 
Outdoes the deacon's. There is nothing left 
But vestment. All the barterer's priceless birth- 
right 
Goes for the mess of pottage that he feeds on. 
Not strange such like to limit other's joys. 
Turn nature inside out and upside down, 
Claim spirit rules where all are slaves of sense, 
And heaven their crown whose realms are 
rimmed by hell. 



352 CECIL THE SEER. 

Cecil {to Freeman.) 

Why, friend, you seem excited. What has roiled 
you.? 
Freeman. Oh nothing, nothing, nothing but a 
toad 
That squat upon a flower here in your garden ! 
Cecil. Here is another flower may take its 
place. 
I must attend the guests, and this, our friend, 
Needs your protection. She will tell you why. 
I leave her with you. 

Efiter — Left Uppe?- Enf?'ance — Madam Cecil. 
(Cecil continues to Celia, taking her hand?) 
And remember, Celia, 
You must not fail to stay with us to-night. 
Madam Cecil {aside). 

I thought so ! I have spied this play before. 
Men seldom waive the wishes of their wives 
Except to welcome other women's wishes. 
{to Cecil, while Celia talks aside to Freeman 

after both have bowed to Cecil.) 
You have forgotten you have other guests. 



^' Father H. Your candlesticks too go so well now 

with 

Freeman {to Celia). 
Their lack of light. 
Father H. {to Widow H.). 

The other ornaments. 



CECIL THE SEER. 353 

A storm is coming on. They wish to leave ; 
And we should speed their parting. Shall we go ? 
(Cecil and Madam C. move toward the Left 
Second E^itrance — Freeman and Celia 
move toward the bay window at the 
Right) 
Freeman (motioning toward the bay window). 
By staying here, we may keep out the way. 

Exeunt — Left Second Entra?tce — Cecil and 
Madam C. Freeman and Celia seat 
themselves in the bay window. 
Enter — Left Upper — Father and Widow Hycher. 
Father Hycher (to Widow Hycher). 

Let him have all her money that you live on? — 
Not I! 
Widow H. (to Father H.). He shall not call on 

Faith again. 
Father H. She may be out? 
Widow H. She may. — And you, you liked 

The stole? 
Father H. One could not be embroidered better. 

With just the shade 

Widow H. Suits your complexion, yes." — 
And Cecil — will he aid you ? 



Widow H. {to Father H.). 

They all are just before you when you pray ? 
Father H. {to Widow H.). 

They are. 



354 CECIL THE SEER, 

Father H. (to Widow H.). 

Humph ! a cause 
Once lost is not the one I follow. 
Exeunt — Left Second — Father Hycher and 
Widow Hycher. 
Celia {to Freeman). Cause? — 

Does he mean Cecil's? 
Freeman. Hope so! Happy Cecil! — 

High noon will come for him when he can see 
A form like that one shadowing him no more. 
Celia. I think it always may seem noon to those 
Who trample all their shadows underfoot 
As he does. 
Enter — Right Upper Entrance — Lowe and Madam 
Lowe. 
{The stage becomes gradually darker^ 
Freeman {^pointing toward Right Upper Entrance). 
Very true! But what of those 

Widow H. {to Father H.). 

Heaven seems less likely to forget 
One thought of thus in prayer. 
Father H. {to Widow H.). 

Who could forget 
Your deeds in rendering the church attractive ? 
Freeman {to Celia). 

Yes, in the front pew with her flower-bed 
bonnet. 
Father H. {to Widow H.). 

I think that all men must have noticed this. 



CECIL THE SEER. 355 

Who deem it wise to keep themselves in shade, 
Held as a shield to ward away the light 
With every ray of color that might reach them. 
As if they thought it their worst enemy? 
Lowe {to Madam Lowe). 

The air seems weighted with a coming storm." 

{Thunder in the distance?) 

Madam L. How near ! We should have been at 

meeting ! 
Lowe {to Madam L. 

Yes, 
But if we had been there, how could one then 
Have shown those plans ? 
Madam L. (to Lowe). 

Of course, we had to come, 
But this man Cecil seems not pious. 
Lowe (to Madam L.). 

No; 

Freeman {to Celia). 

I fear so ; for you know heads crown'd with flowers 
Nod most for bees that buzz and sting about them. 

Widow H. {to Father H.). And Cecil— will he aid 
you ? etc. 

^^ Freeman {to Celia). 

Their airs appear so. Yes. 
Madam L. {to Lowe). 

Must hurry home. 

How near, etc. 



35^ CECIL THE SEER. 

You heard how they made light of that new 

building, — 
One, too, for their own sect! 
Madam L. {to Lowe). 

Yes, I have heard 
Enough for once. That irreligious music! 
Lowe (io Madam L.). 

And noise and dancing! It was fortunate 
The supper-room was opened early. 
Madam L. [to Lowe). Yes. 

{Distant thunder. ) 
Lowe {to Madam L.). 

And one good thing! — this thunder storm will 
end it. 

Exeunt — Left Upper Entrance — Lowe and Madam 
Lowe. 

Freeman {to Celia). 

I wonder if they really grudge each draft 
Of those enjoying what is past their taste? 
I hate to think it, yet at times, one must, 
That some men deem mere conscious envy con- 
science ; 
And seem most zealous when they are but jealous. 

{^Thunder louder than before,) 



*^ Blaver. a man like him will never aid my plans, 
Nor yours. 



CECIL THE SEER, 357 

Celia and Freeman both rise. 
But hear the storm. I think it best you stay- 
Inside the study. 

(Freeman points toward Left Second Entrance.^ 
Celia ^pointing toward the right). 

We can pass through here. 
Freeman. And I must go, and call these men I 
know, 
Detectives — good ones — they will shadow him. 

Exeunt — Right Eront Entrance — Freeman and 
Celia. 

Enter — Left Upper Entrance — Blaver, Lowe, 
Miss Primwood and Madam Lowe, and 
others^ all with hats and cloaks^ evidently 
prepared to leave the house. 
Blaver {to Lowe). 

I used to have some confidence in Cecil. 
Lowe {to Blaver). 

But now he shows this lack of enterprise ! '* 
Enter — Left Upper Entrance — Madam C^cil^ fol- 
lowed by Jem. 
Madam C. (to Miss Primwood). 
You leave us in a storm. 



Lowe. And wise men, when they fear a fight, 

Will never lend one weapon to a foe. 



358 CECIL THE SEER, 

Blaver (to Madam Cecil). 

It will clear off.'* 
I thank you for a very pleasant evening. 
(^Shaking hands with Madam C.) 
Madam C. {shaking hands with Blaver). 
Good evening. 

{To Jem.) 
Here, Jem, show them to the gate. 
Madam C. motions to Jem who moves toward 
Right Upper Entrance — Miss Primwood, 
then Lowe, then Madam Lowe, also 
others^ shake hands with Madam C. 
Miss P. Good-night. 
Madam C. Good-night. 

Lowe. Good-night. 

Madam L. Good-night. 

Madam C. Good-night. 

Exeunt — Right Upper Entrance — Blaver with 
Miss Primwood, Lowe with Madam 
Lowe and others^ also Jem. 
Enter — Right Third Entrance — Kraft.^^ 
{Thunder and storm increase^ 
Kraft {to Madam C.). Where went your husband ? 

^* Madam C. And when the sun is shining here, you 
know 
Where you can find a friend. 
Blaver {rather significantly^ as he offers his arm to 
Miss Primwood). 

Yes — one — I do. 



CECIL THE SEER. 359 

Madam C. He ? — With guests, perhaps. 

Kraft. Or, say, with Celia. 

Madam C. What ? — Your scheme 

has failed ? 
Kraft. Not yet ; my men are here. 

Enter — Right Upper Entrance — Jem. 
{Thunder and lightning— ^Lkkyt points toward Jem.) 

You send for him, 
And I will send for her. 

Exit — Right Third Entrance — Kraft. 
Madam C. (to Jem). 

Jem, find your master. 
I wish to see him. Say it is important. 
Exit — Right Upper Entrance — Jem. 
{to herself^ 
Now let him leave her but one little moment, 
As leave he must, and they will have her seized. 
And may a pall, as black as tops this night, 

{Thunder and lightning). 
Come down, and hide her face from him forever. 
Oh, naught but death, or burial deep as death, 
Can ever fitly robe a form once wedged 
Between a man and wife ! — Though what care I .?- 

35 Madam C. {to Kraft). 
Have all our guests gone ? 

( Thunder and storm increase^ 
Kraft. No ; for I am here. 

Madam C. You feel at home without the going 
there ? 



360 CECIL THE SEER. 

Kraft hates my husband ; yet is wholly mine ; 
And so I get my wish. 

{Thunder and lightning^ 
Enter — Right Upper Entrance — Cecil. 
Cecil {to Madam Cecil). What is your wish ? 
Madam C. And what care you, my husband, for 
my wish t 
Oh, I was but a fool, to wed a fool ! 
Like goes with like. I now acknowledge it 

{Thunder and lightning^ 
You might have been — ah me ! — what might you 

not.? 
Position, wealth, — all waited on your nod. 
You have dismissed them by your course to-night ; 
But one hope now remains, and that through 
Kraft. 
Enter — Right First Entrance — in trepidation^ Celia. 

{Thunder and lightning^ 
Celia. Help ! help ! 
Cecil {to Celia). 

Come here. What is it? 
Celia. He — with men! 

They come to take me. 
Cecil. That they shall not do. 

Madam C. Wait, wait ! Her guardian claims her. 

Who are you? 
Cecil. A man who shields a woman. 
Madam C. If she lie? — 

Cecil. Then he can prove it. 



CECIL THE SEER. 36 1 

Madam C. Dare you tell him that ? — 

Him, Kraft, — the man on whom alone depends 
Your chance now for promotion ? 

{Thunder and lightning^ 
Celia {to Cecil.) 

Do not harm 
Yourself. 
Cecil {to Celia). 

But sacrifice this gentle lamb 
To wild ambition ? — Never ! — Hide in here ! 
(Cecil poi?its toward Left Upper Entrance^ 
Exit — Left Upper Entrance — Celia. 
Madam C. {to Cecil). 

You do not know — They claim her as a slave. 
Cecil {to Madam C). I save her as a woman. 
Madam C. But the law — 

The sentiment — the spirit of the State. — 
You dare not shield her. 

{Thunder and lightniitg.) 
Cecil. Wherefore dare I not ? 

Madam C. No man has ever yet with us been 
left 
Not ruined — left alive — who ventured this. 
Your influence, your position, property, 
Your life, my home, my hope for you, — all, all 
Would all be forfeited. 

{Thunder and lightning.) 
Cecil. Well, let them go. 



362 CECIL THE SEER. 

When they have stripped me of all things be- 
sides, 
I shall have left a clean, clear conscience, death 
And heaven. 
Madam C. You madman! 
Cecil. Not as mad as you: 

I wait for proof. 
Madam C. And if they prove their case? — 

Cecil. I wait then till they take her. But they 
come. 

{Thunder and lightning^ 

Enter — Right Front Entrance — Kraft with two men, 

Kraft {to Cecil). 
Is Celia here ? 

{advancing toward Left Upper Entrance^ 
I say, is Celia here ? 
Cecil {standing in front of Left Upper Entrance-^ 
and looking around). 
I do not see her here. 
Kraft. I too have eyes. 

I did not ask that. She was in this house. 
Cecil. She was my guest ; if she be still within 

Then still she is my guest. 
Kraft. I am her guardian. 

Cecil. And so am I, while I remain her host. 
{Thunder and lightning?) 
(Cecil looks at the men behind Kraft.) 
You seem to wish to guard her well, — too well. 



CECIL THE SEER, 3^3 

Kraft. I do and shall — for she belongs to 

me. 
Cecil. Well, prove your case. 
Kraft. You ask for proof from me, — 

A gentleman 1 — 
Cecil. I ask for proof from you. 

Kraft. You hint I am no gentleman ? 
Cecil. I say 

You are not gentle in your present mood ; 
And that child is — too gentle far for you. 
Kraft. What ? — You defy me ? — I shall search for 
her. 

{Thunder and lightning^ 
Cecil. Not till you get by me ! 

(Ct^cij. pulls out a pistol. Madam C. seizes it.) 

Kraft. And that we shall ! 

(K.RAFT dashes af Cecil, followed l^y his men. 

Pistol fired behind scene, hut apparently on 

stage. Cecil falls. Terrific thunder 

and lightning^ 

Enter — Right Upper Entrance — Freeman with two 

detectives. 
Freeman. Here ! seize them ! Stop the villains, 

every one ! 
Exeunt — Left Second Entrance — Kraft and men, 
followed by detectives. 
Enter — Left Upper Entrance — Celia, a7id 
bends over Cecil, excitedly examining into 
his condition. 



364 CECIL THE SEER. 

{^"KEEM-Pl^ snatches pistol from Madam Q.^ saying to 
her,) 

Aha, you are the murderer ? you ? eh ? — you ? 
Madam C. I did not fire it. 
Freeman {examining pistol). 

One ball gone ! Who did ? — 

Confess it, or convict your lover, Kraft. 
Celia {wringing hands over C'ecii!s> prostrate body). 

Oh, he is dead for me ! — The only man 

I ever loved is dead for me, for me ! 

{Thunder and lightning^ 
Curtain. 



CECIL THE SEER. 365 



ACT SECOND. 

Scene First : A sick chamber. At the Left, between 
the Front and Second Entrances, is an alcove; in 
this, visible to the audience, is a bed, beside the bed is 
a chair and a small table, and on the latter are 
bottles and glasses. On the bed, Cecil lies insen- 
sible, with his head to thg audience and his face to- 
ward the stage, fust behind Cecil, lying also on 
the bed, but concealed in this scene, is an effigy ex- 
actly resembling him. Forming the hack curtain of 
the stage, is a wall containing a bell-cord, windows, 
possibly a door, etc. 

Entrances : by doors at the Right and Left 
Front and Second, the Left Second Entrance 
leading apparently to the space behind the 
bed in the alcove. 
The curtain rising discloses a Physician sit- 
ting in the chair beside the bed, and Celia 
just entering the room, or standing near 
him. 
Celia (aside). 

How fortunate for Freeman and myself 

That Kraft and Madam Cecil should have fled 



366 CECIL THE SEER, 

And left with us the man they thought was mur- 
dered ! 
Now we can nurse him, as he should be nursed. 

{to the Physician.) 
How does he seem this morning ? 
Physician. Very low. 

Celia. You fear he never will recover, then ? 
Physician {rising from chair, and offering it to 
Celia). 
No man could tell — no other case just like it. 
One would not think a bullet lodged as this one 
Enough to insulate the brain entirely, 
Yet not a nerve will act. He scarcely seems 
To see, or hear, or even feel one touch him. 
Celia (looking at Cecil). 

It seems like death. 
Physician. Yes, very much like death. 

Celia. He seems to think, though. 
Physician. Yes; for he is living. 

Celia. In states like this, what can a person think 

of? 

Physician. Why, he may dream of what he did, 

and was. 

And wished he was, before he reached them. 

Celia. So? 

Physician. There could be nothing else for him 

to think of. 
Celia. I sometimes hope he knows that I am 
by. 



CECIL THE SEER, 3^7 

Physician (rising and preparing to leave). 
Perhaps he does. At any sign of it, 
A word might make him conscious of your 

presence, 
And keep him so. They say that things more slight 
Than flickering flames, attracting consciousness 
At times, if they but set the nerves to thrilling, 
Wake slumbering senses into life again. 
Celia. I thank you for the thought. You come 

to-morrow? 
Physician. To-morrow ; yes. Good-day. 
Celia (accompanying the Physician to the Right 
Second entrance). Good-day. 

Exit — Right Second — Physician. 
Celia looks back toward Cecil and crosses to alcove). 

Poor man ! 
Can this be Cecil ? — Cecil had a soul. — 
And where now has it flown ? — I wonder if 
My voice could ever really call him back ! 
It might? — Then I will sit here day by day, 
And take his hand in mine, as I would lead 
His body, were he in the body still ; 
And though he may not hear the thing I say, 
Nor even feel me touch him, who can tell 
But I may find him where the spirit dreams, 
And comfort him, and draw him here once more. 
(She apparently passes around the foot of the bed to its 
other side?) 
Exit — Left Second — Celia. 



368 



CECIL THE SEER. 



Scene Second : The stage is darkened, and the curtain 
forming the back of the room in Scene First rises, 
leaving everything on the stage the same as in this 
scene with exception of that which is back of the 
Right and Left Second Entrances. At the rear of the 
stage, is an extensive sylvan landscape, trees, rocks, 
mosses, etc., backed by higher rocks and distant 
mountain scenery. The leaves are colored as in 
autumn, and the sky as at sunrise. Golden light 
illumines the stage. Backing, near the center of the 
stage, slightly elevated and containing seats overlook- 
ing the stage, is an arbor. Some of the stone or 
moss-covered steps leading up to this can be used as 
seats. Around and behind the arbor are other steps 
leading upward. Entrances, used in this scene: 
Right and Left Third and Upper ; and Back Center, 
behind the arbor, and reached by passing upward 
either through it or around it. 

From the moment that the stage is darkened, 
and while it is gradually being illumined 
again.) the following is chafited by a choir, 
either invisible to the- audience, or, clothed 
In white, and half seen at the rear of the 
stage : 

Oh, who has known the whole of light, 

That knows it day by day, 
Where suns that make the morning bright, 

At evening, pass away ? 



CECIL THE SEER. 369 

Before the day, beyond the day, 

Above the suns that roll, 
There was a light, there waits a light 

That never leaves the soul. 

Oh, who has weighed the worth of light, 

That gauged it by the gleam 
That came within the range of sight 

And thought the rest a dream ? 
Before that sight, beyond that sight 

And all that mortals deem, 
There was a light, there waits a light, 

Where things are all they seem. 

Once or twice toward the close of the singings 
Cecil sits up in the bed in a bewildered 
way, passing his hand over his forehead. 
As the last strains die away, he stands 
on the floor, leaving an exact effigy of him- 
self lying on the bed behind him. He now 
appears clothed in white with knee breeches. 
As he begins to gaze wonderingly about 
him, 
Enter — Left Third Entrance — Cecilia, an 
idealized form of (Z"£Aak, clothed also in 
white, Grecian style. Cecil does not 
see her till after she has spoken. 
Cecil. Ah, where am I ? 
Cecilia. With me. 

Cecil {looking at her in astonishment, yet shrinking 
from her as if in awe). 

And who are you ? 



370 CECIL THE SEER, 

Cecilia. Your friend. 
Cecil {drawing nearer her). 

My friend ? 
Cecilia. Do I seem else .? ( 

Cecil (with pleased bewilderment). 

Nay, nay 
You seem it all : you seem far more than this ; 
Yet where — when — was it, that I knew you so ? 
Cecilia. You knew me so ? — You think you knew 

me, then ? 
Cecil. Yes, knew you ; and I know you ; yet seem 
not 
To know where, when or how I learned of you. 
(Cecil gazes around^ then looking back at the 
bed that he has left, he suddenly starts upon 
seeing there the effigy of himself^ 
What 1 what ? — Is that my body ? — Am I dead ? 
Cecilia. You seem to be alive. 
Cecil. If feeling be 

The test of life, I do live. — And yet that — 
{returning toward the bed and looking at the effigy^ 

That is my body. 
Cecilia {meeting him as he turns about ^ and pointing 
to his own form). 

Nay, but look you here. — 

•* Why, when you speak, your voice the echo seems. 
Of some familiar strain, with which all sounds 
That ever I thought sweet were in accord. 
And when my dimmed eyes dare to face your own. 



CECIL THE SEER. 37 1 

What then is this ? 
Cecil (^placing his hand on his chest). 

This ? — Oh, so light, so free, 

It seems an essence framed of flutterings, 

Ethereal as the trillings that a lark 

Leaves up in heaven when it has left for earth. — 

And you call this a body ? 
Cecilia. That one there, 

{J)ointi?tg toward the bed,) 

Holds not your thought ? 
Cecil. Nay, it has flown to you. 

Cecilia. And wherefore, think you, has it flown to 

me ? 
Cecil. I do not know. I half believe my soul 

Has all my life been flying thus to you,^^ 
{looking around.) 

But what a world you live in ! — Golden skies } — 

Is it the sunset ? 
Cecilia. Nay ; you see no sun. 

Cecil. Is it the Indian Summer ? 
Cecilia. Nay ; you see 

The air is far too clear. 
Cecil. Is there a breeze ? — 

I feel it fan me. 



Each seems a sky within which is inframed 
A world that holds my lifetime ; and the light 
Beams like a sun there, scattering doubt and 
gloom. 



3/2 CECIL THE SEER. 

Cecilia. Yet the leaves move not. 

Cecil. Why, every leaf glows fairer than a flower ! — ■■ 

It must be autumn. 
Cecilia (^plucking a leaf^ and handing it to him). 

Nay ; these leaves are fresh. 
Cecil. I think I dream : — ^all things appear so 
strange 
Yet doubt I dream : — they all appear so clear. 



2' No — yet, yes. 
I dimly can recall what now appears 
A troubled, stormy sea, yet not a sea ; 
And in the depth that which I call myself 
Seemed held and heaved as in some diving bell. 
But evermore in reveries and dreams, 
But most in dreams when outward sense would 

sleep 
My soul would be released, and rise and reach 
Fresh air, in which was breathed what gave fresh 

life ; 
Then, sinking downward, wake and work again, 
Till time for rest and fresh refreshment came. 
But never could my powers at work below 
Remember aught that blest them when above. 
Cecilia. And now you dream that somehow they 

came here ? 
Cecil. Oh, do not tell me that I now but dream ! — 
Nay, call it heaven. — Or is the rest of sleep 
But absence from the body while we draw 
New drafts of life from that which gave us life ? 
Cecilia, What do you think ? 



CECIL THE SEER 373 

Cecilia {sitting on one of the lower steps ^ leading up 
from the stage to the arbor). 
Does nothing seem familiar ? 
Cecil {sitting, in a half kneeling position, on a step be- 
side Cecilia, but lower than the 07ie that she 
occupies, and gazing up reverentially toward her). 

No— '^ 
Cecilia {pointing toward the Right), You see 



Cecil. I do not think at all. 

I only know I would that I were Adam, 
And you were Eve, created while I slept. 
Or is it true that all our souls create 
The things that they aspire for ? — And are you, — 
You whom my very spirit seems to clasp 
And thrill forever at each tingling touch, 
Are you, indeed, the form of my ideal ? 
Oh, love, you seem as if at one with God ; 
And yet I never thought a God could be 
So dear. 

(kneeling,') 
There have been monks in ecstasy 
Who saw — or thought they saw — the Virgin. I — 
I could not credit them. But now, it seems 

Cecilia. You think that I 

Cecil. I know not what you are. 

I only know my soul had sought for you ; 
And now has found the search was not in vain. 
Why, and how is it that I know so well — 
How have you told me — what you are to me ? 

Cecilia. I have not told you this ; and He alone 



374 CECIL THE SEER. 

Those coming ? — Let us watch them first — from 
here. 
{They enter the arbor ^ where, in view of the 

audience, they overlook the stage. 
Enter — Right — Lowe a?id Madam Lowe in 

gray Quaker costumes, resembling in most 



"Who formed the spirit knows the how and why. 
Cecil. Who formed?— Why, that is God. I 
thought me dead. 

Yet here, I see not 

{^gazing around and upward.) 
Cecilia. You had hoped, at death. 

To pass to Paradise, and be at rest. 
Move on : I have detained you. 
{risings and waving him off with a gesture^ 
Cecil {risi^tg anxiously. ) 

I move on ?— 
And you stay here? — I cannot. There is not 
The littlest finger of the littlest nerve 
In all my frame here, that could summon power 
To move where you moved not. 
Cecilia. A i, then your will 

Is mightier than you deemed ii ? You can rise 
But when you wish to rise ? The haunts of heaven 
Need not have walls to keep you out of them ? 
{^Seating herself on a step higher than she occupied 

be for el) 
Cecil {sitting beside., but below her). 

Keep out of them ? — Why, your sweet form alone 
Has brought me now a million, million times 



CECIL THE SEER. 375 

regards those of Cecil and Cecilia. 
{Blue-gray light illumines the stage.) 
Cecil (aside). 

They look like Lowe, the Quaker, and his wife. 
Lowe (to Madam L.). 

I feel so weary, yet we hoped for rest. 



More than I ever dreamed that death could 
bring me. 
Cecilia. But where is your religion ? 
Cecil. All was love. 

Cecilia. And not the Christ — ? 
Cecil. Why, yes — that which he was — 

For which he died, — the spirit in the man, — 
In me, in you. — Ah, now it seems as if 
Each face I loved on earth but imaged yours !— 
Why is it, dear one, that you seem to be 
So fully all things that they all could be ? 
And what love is it ?— what, the halo here 
That seems to orb you in the sphere of God ? 
Cecilia. Had you'seen more of that, you 

might find out. 
Cecil. I would I could ! 
Cecilia {rising, as does also Cecil). 

And shall I help you to it ? 
Cecil. I knew there was no wish within my 
soul 
That would not find an echo in your own. 
Where shall we go that we may find — ? 
Cecilia {pointing toward the Right). 

You see, etc. 



37^ CECIL THE SEER. 

Madam L. {to Lowe). 

Did I not walk with thee, I half might doubt 

The leading of this path. 
Lowe. I doubt it not, 

When leading thee. — Who ever saw thee decked 

In vain attire ? 
Madam L. Or thee not grave and gray ? 

Lowe. Or heard thee romp ? 
Madam L. Or thee hilarious.? 

Lowe. Or found thee once the toy of giddy fancy } 
Madam L. Or thee, of disconcerted calculation? 
Lowe. None ever ! — Yet I fear this path. — I 
thought 

I heard — and oh, I dared then listen twice ! — 

I thought I heard strange singing — 
Madam L. Birds ? — I thought 

I saw — and oh, I dared then look there twice ! — 

I thought I saw a wicked, grinning ape. 
Lowe. Hush, hush ! Think not of these things. 
Nay, but think 

Of things that God hath made. — I wonder if 

^^ And if the saints be not all Friends 

Madame L. Sh— sh — 

Not that ! — so loud ! — I fear me lest we doubt. 
Lowe. To doubt is charity, where to believe 

Is to condemn. Who knows but we could thrive 

Deprived of friends — build churches. 
Madame L. Say not that. 

We may be taken down yet, where they use them. 



CECIL THE SEER, 377 

(becoming shrewd) 
The holy city be completely built. 
Madam L. They might give thee a contract. 
Lowe. Well, they might ! " 

Sh ! — What is that ? Loud noise and music 

too ! 
(Blaver and Miss Primwood are heard singing^ 

Oh, up and spout, and down and shout, 
And show the spirit off and out. 

Madam L. Oh, there may be a fiend here ! Let 

us hide. 
Exeunt — Right Third — Lowe and Madam L. hur- 
riedly. 
Enter — Left Upper — Blaver andyLis?> Prim- 
wood in blue clothes resembling those of 
Cecil and Cecilia. Stage is illumined 
with dark blue light. 
Cecil {aside). 

See ! — Blaver and Miss Primwood, I should 
say. 

Lowe. I fear me some may use them here. For 
look !— 

(Part of the stage is illuminated with red light.) 

The colors on the leaves, the very sky, 

Seem sadly gay. 
Madam L. Oh, do not look at them ! 

They glow to tempt the lusting of the eye. 



378 CECIL THE SEER. 

Blaver. We should have found the place ere 
this ; or heard 

The blowing of the trumpets, or the shouts ^® 

No one has got the power here ? 
Miss P. It may be. 

They all have got it. 
Blaver. What if that were so ? — 

Suppose they had. — Suppose that no one here 
Could ever find a spirit to reform — 
Not one to preach to, — how could saints here 

know 
About one's gifts ?^° 
Enter — Right Third — stealthily^ and dodging behind 
trees Lowe and Madam L. 



39 Miss P. Of all the elders, yes. 
Blaver, We soon shall reach 

The place ' ' where congregations ne'er break 

up."- 
Oh, I could talk forever ! 
Miss P. So could I !— 

Yet, — do you know ? — if I were not with you, 
I half should tremble, lest my feet were near 

The silence of the ■ 

Blaver {in a frightened way). 

Do not speak of that ! 
Keep talking. — Oh too true ! — there are no 
shouts. 



CECIL THE SEER, 379 

Miss P. {pointing toward the Right^. 

Yes, yes, but who are they ? 
So still, so backward, skulking through the shade ? 
Blaver. So backward and so still ! — are both 

bad signs.*^ 
Miss P. {clifiging to Blaver's ar^n^. 

How wise that I did learn to be a woman, 

And cling to man ! Ah, were I here alone 

Blaver. Those two seem slipping just like 
drunken sneaks 
Evading prohibition laws. — I have it : 
Heaven calls me to my mission. See them 
quail 



*o Miss P. {agitated). 

Yes, yes ; but keep on talking, 

To be with one who talks on, makes one sure 

The silence is not near. 
Blaver. Yes, let us talk. 

Perhaps, at times, to change a tune or text, 

The congregation pauses ; and may hear, 

And send the sexton for us. 

^* Miss P. Though this were Paradise, there might 
be here 

Another serpent. 
Blaver. Or those like him ! — Would 

Be backward too, and not stand up for aught. 
Miss P. Would slip away. 
Blaver. Be still in doing it. 



380 CECIL THE SEER. 

When I exhort them ! "—Ho ! hoho ! hoho ! 
(Blaver is gesturing toward the Right Third En- 
trance?) 
Enter — Right Upper Entrance — Father Hy- 
CHER, in a long red cassock, and Widow 
Hycher, in a red gown resembling a cas- 
sock. The stage is suddenly illumined with 
red light. 
Father H. {to Blaver). 

Hold, preaching fiend ! How dare you block my 

path 
And raise that impious and schismatic shout ? 
Down on your knees. 



*' What is more religious 

Than ministering discomfort ? Rile folks up, 

Their dregs appear; they see their own foul 

depths. 
You watch them now. — Hoho ! hoho ! hoho ! etc. 

^^ Madam Lowe. Vain souls, 

Trained on the earth to influence men through 

force, 
In realms where spirits have not forms that force 
Can harm, must find their occupation gone. 

Cecil {aside, as he looks at the Hychers). 

Father and Widow Hycher, or their doubles ! — 
The Quaker dame has not forgot her training. 

Blaver {to Miss P., looking toward Madam L.). 
Expected to surprise her ! — failed ! — She knows 
The devil is deformed, and so wears robes. 



CECIL THE SEER, 38 1 

{then to Lowe and Madam Lowe, who appear at 
the Right). 

Down on — " 
Blaver {to Miss P.). How strange that forms 
We meet in Paradise all seem to garb 
Our worst aversions ! 
Exeunt — Right Third — Lowe and Madam Lowe. 
Miss P. {anxiously). Yes, but — oh — exhort them ! 
Blaver {to Father andV^iT>ow H.). Hoho, hoho! 

Who rails at preaching proves his need of it. 
Widow H. I feel as if a storm were near." 
(The Hychers disappear behind a rock.) 
Blaver {to Miss P.). Are gone? — 



Miss P. They both wear like robes ! — Are for woman's 
rights ? 

And think the woman's best is in her gown ? 
Widow H, (io Blayer, poinding to Father H.). 

He bade you kneel. 
Blaver {to Widow H.). Am I your suitor ? — No ; 

Nor his. You neither suit me. 
Widow H. {pointing to Father H.). It is time 

You go to 

Blaver. You go there yourself. Ay, ay; 

Be missionaries for me. I will not 

Be tempted that way then. 

{to Miss P.) How strange that forms, etc. 

*•* and yet 
Were blowing music for me. 



382 CECIL THE SEER. 

You sing, and I will shout. 

{Moves toward Right). 
Miss P. Not that way, no ! 

{Both turn to the Lefi), 
Blaver and Miss P. {together^. 

Hoho ! hoho ! hoho ! hoho ! 

We've all things here you need to know. 

Exeunt — Left — Blaver and Miss Primwood. 



Father H. {to Widow H.). Heard in heaven, 
Storms blowing from the mouth of hell make 
music. 
Blaver {to Miss P.). Their colors ! they — they flag 
the foe for me. 
Are red as fire — are fire, perhaps ; if so, 
Need stirring up, and showing — blowing up 
And out. Hoho, hoho ! 

{The Hychers disappear behind a rock.) 
Why, they are gone ? — 
You sing — etc. 

*^ Nor sheepfold, not a single hedge, forsooth. 
In which to drive a single soul ! 

Widow H. Like that — 

Where all were kept so safe — no schism there ? — 
The walls were always echoing back the words 
You spoke ; and no one else was let to speak. 

Father H. All heard what they believed. 

Widow H. Could they do else 

Than to believe what they were always hearing ? — 



CECIL THE SEER. 383 

(Reappear at the Right, Father Hycher <?;?^ Widow 

Hycher). 
Widow H. If I were not with you, I half might 
fear 
That we had wholly missed the narrow path, 
But with my shepherd near me, all is well. 
Father H. How strange that I have found not 

yet a flock." 
Widow H. You promise not to leave me ; for, 
you know, 



Dear words, how we must thank them for our 
faith ! 
Father H. Without our words men might be left 

with nature. 
Widow H. Just think of that ! — And where would 

nature bear them ? 
Father H. Off from the church, I fear. 
Widow H. Yes, yes, and off — 

Off from the priest. 
Father H. From Gcd, as well ? 

Widow H. I fear — 

For he is so unnatural. 
Father H. You mean 

Is supernatural. 
Widow H, Mysterious ! — 

Creates our reason, yet condemns its use. 

I never used my reason — did not dare. 
Father H. You were a modest, model woman, yes. 
Widow H. And you a model man — no monk with 
me : 



384 CECIL THE SEER. 

I never learned the language of the spirit; 

And might not know it, were you not beside me. 

Father H. I — yes — but if 

Widow H. There was no if in what 

You used to say. 
Exeunt- — Left — Father Hycher and Widow Hy- 

CHER. 

{The red light changes to golden, and Cecil 
and Cecilia come out from the arbor. 



Yet ever showed the world a pious face. 

Father H. I did. They lied who said I did not 
care 
For truth. How oft, for it, I held my tongue ! 

Widow H. And so held on to truth — 

Father H. And kept it sacred. 

Widow H. And easy too for us, who need not find it. 
For my part, I would rather have no truth 
Than risk damnation, planning how to use it. 
How kind the priest to do our thinking for us, 
And make us, though not thinking, think just 
right ! 

Father H. But you did thinking — when I thought— 

Widow H. Of course, 

When you thought for me. — Is that what you mean ? 
And now, and here, too, you will think for me. 

Father H. Could I do else ? 

Widow H, And when we reach the gates, 

You promise, etc. 

*® Cecil. Pray tell me who they were. They seemed 
so near, 



CECIL THE SEER, 385 

and^ while speaking, gradually descend to 
the stage ^ 
Cecil. They did not see us. 

Cecilia. No 

For they did not look up. 
Cecil. I know, but why ? — 

Where all things round them were so new and 
strange ? 
Cecilia. The spirit is the slave of its desire. 
They did not care to look above themselves." 



And yet so many million miles away. 

They looked like people, too, whom once I knew ; 

Yet moved like cuckoos jointed on a clock. 

Accenting nothing they have thought themselves, 

Or have the force to make another think. 
Cecilia. They seemed as if lost souls. 
Cecil {startled). 

Lost souls, you say ? 
Cecilia. Did you not note them — ^how they wandered 
on ; 

Nor knew their destination ? 
Cecil. Heaven forbid ' 

Cecilia. Why pray for this ? — You think that force 
rules here, — 

That spirits are not free to wander where 

Their own ideals bear them ? 
Cecil. Those they formed 

On earth you mean ? 
Cecilia. Where else could they be formed ? 



386 CECIL THE SEER. 

Enter — Left — Freeman and Faith, dressed like 
Cecil and Cecilia. 

Freeman {advancing, speaking to the two, and point- 
ing toward the Right Rear). 
Does this path lead us upward ? 
Cecilia. Yes, it does. 



Cecil. And whither, think you, will ideals bear 
Those whom we just have seen ? 

Cecilia. Where would you deem 

These could be realized — save on the earth ? 

Cecil. But some of them seemed looking for their 
Christ. 

Cecilia. I fear those looking only for their Christ 
May sometimes fail to find the Christ of God. 

Cecil. But will they never find Him ? 

Cecilia. Do you think 

That those in search but for a false ideal, 
Could recognize Him, even should they find Him? 

Cecil. Is not the Christ of God in all the churches ? 

Cecilia. Is he not preached through men ? 

Cecil. And are not men 

Controlled ? — inspired ? 

Cecilia. And, if so, from what source ? 

Are there no spirits in the line between 
Divinity and man ? — And what of man, — 
This urn of earth in which the true seed falls ? — 
There was an Arab in Mohammed's time ; 
In Joan of Arc's, there was a maid of France. 

Cecil. But would you grant their claim ? 

Cecilia, Some keen as you 



CECIL THE SEER. 3^7 

Freeman {looking at Cecil, and speaking to him). 
Why, why, friend, is this you ? 
{to Cecilia.) 

And Celia too ? — 
Cecilia. Your friends, at least, whoever we may 
be. 



Believed it true. And is it charity 

To deem them dupes ? 
Cecil. But one must rate them thus, 

Or call upon their prophets. 
Cecilia. Think you so ? 

One hears of gypsies telling what comes true. 

Does this truth prove them seers of all the truth ? 

Believe not every spirit ; prove 

Cecil. But how ? 

Cecilia. How but by what is told, and character 

Of him who tells it ? To the true soul, truth 

Appeals to taste, as beauty to the sense ; 

Its test is quality. The truth of Christ 

Is proved by traits of Christ. The like comes 
from like. 

Their inspiration is the nearest God 

Whose lives and loves are nearest Him. 
Cecil. May those 

Not near Him be inspired too ? 
Cecilia. Why may not 

Some lower phase of spirit-power, earth-borne 

To live for matter only, still intent 

To live for matter, take abode in them, 

And work its will upon their willing souls ? 



388 CECIL THE SEER, 

(Cecil ^/^^ Cecilia shake hands with Freeman and 
Faith.) 

Cecil (to Freeman). 

And Freeman — you with Faith? — I join your joy. 
Why, it fulfills my dream for you. 

Freeman. And mine ! 

{to Faith, and gesturing toward their surroundings^ 
How much, with each new step, th' horizon 
widens!" 

Faith (to Cecilia, while Freeman turns to Cecil). 
So strange it is how much more wide and wise 
His views are here, than are the views of those 
Who on the earth appeared so much more learned! 

Cecilia. Not strange !— Though spirit-life be lived 
in thought, 



Why differs it, though they may rise on earth 

Impelled through emulation to enforce 

Their wills on others ; or through appetite 

May fall, and yield control of reason's reins 

To that which drives them on to lust and crime ? — 

A spirit that inspires through selfishness 

To mean success or failure, equally 

May vex as by a devil made incarnate 

Oneself and all about him. 

Cecil. Poor weak man ! 

Cecilia. Weak ever — save when conscious of 
his need. 

*' Faith. How could one bide below ! 



CECIL THE SEER. 3^9 

Where thought pervades the atmosphere like 

air, 
What can its measure be, for any mind, 
Save that mind's receptivity? If so, 
When freed from bounds conditioning human 

thought. 
It is a mind not filled so much as open. 
Where waits not bigotry but charity. 
Although with little learning, that first thrills 
To tides that flow from infinite resources. 

Freeman (who has tur7ied to listen to the latter part 
of what she has been saying). 
Is this a revelation? 

Cecilia. Ay, to those 

Who heed the truth behind the words I use; 
And yet for those who heed this truth themselves 
I do not need to term it revelation. 



Freeman {thoughtfully , and pointing toward the Left). 

Ask Father Hycher. 

Faith. And he — he was a good and learned man ! 

Freeman. Less good than learned, darling. Your 
pure soul 
Breathed such an atmosphere about itself, 
Your very presence could impart an air 
Of sacredness to all brought near to you. 

Faith. Well, now the father interests me not ; 
Nor she that held the place of mother to me. 

Freeman {pointing upward) 

Those interest us now who call us upward. 



390 CECIL THE SEER. 

Freeman. We soon, I hope, can test it for 
ourselves. 
Farewell, kind friends, until we meet above. 
(Freeman and Faith shake hands with Cecil and 

Cecilia). 
Cecilia. Farewell. 
Cecil. Farewell. 

(Freeman and Yattil pass upward through, or around 
the arbor, till, finally they disappear^ 
Exeunt — Back Center — Freeman ^«^ Faith. 
Cecil {looking at them as they ascend ). 
Oh, happy, blessed pair ! 

(The following is then chanted by the choir, 
either invisible, or visible at the rear of the 
stage. During the singing, Cecilia and 
Cecil gradually ascend to the arbor where 
both sit. 

Two springs of life, — in air and earth ; 

Two tides, — in soul and sod ; 
Two natures, — wrought of breath and birth ; 

Two aims, — in cloud and clod ; — 
Oh, where were worlds, or where were worth 

Without the two, and God ? 

Two movements in the heaving breast, 

Two, in the beating heart ; 
Two, in the swaying soldier's crest; 

Two, in the strokes of art ; — 
Oh where in aught of mortal quest, 

Are e'er the two apart ? 



CECIL THE SEER. 391 

Two times of day, — in gloom and glow ; 

Two realms — of dream and deed ; 
Two seasons — bringing sod and snow ; 

Two states — of fleshed and freed ; — 
Oh where is it that life would go, 

But through the two they lead ? 

Two frames that meet, — the strong, the fair. 

True love in both begun ; 
Two souls that form a single pair ; 

Two courses both have run ; — 
Oh where is life in earth or air, 

And not with these at one ? 



Cecil (^pointing in the direction taken by Freeman 
and Faith). 
And now they rest ? 
Cecilia. Why not ? What now remains 

Of an ideal to bear them back to earth ? — 
Or what to learn from mortals ? 
Cecil. Learn from mortals ? *' 

Cecilia. Why should not all in heaven or earth 
be helped 



^^ Can mortals aid immortals ? 

Cecilia. Life is one. 

Our daily deeds bring sweeter dreams at night ; 

And sweeter dreams more strength for daily deeds. 

If thought may pass from sphere to sphere, why 
not 

The benefit of thought ? 



392 CECIL THE SEER. 

By all with whom in spirit they are one ? 
Were you on earth, the while your soul aspired, 
Could mine not move up with you? What you 

learned, 
Could it not ever be a part of me ? 
Cecil. Why, this is that for which I so have 

longed ! 
And once with one I thought that I had found it. 
Ah, can it be the halo crowning her, 
Was your sweet face behind the face I saw .? — 
Yet — were it right to turn from her to you ? 
Cecilia. All ties are right that make true life more 

bright. 
Think you that she had not her own ideal 1 

(gesturing toward the Right?) 
And were her soul but free to pass to it, 



Cecil. Why, this were strange ! 

Cecilia. If strangeness were a test of what is false, 

Few things would be believed that were not true. 
Cecil. But high and heavenly spirits helped by 
human ? 

^^ Madam C. {in abject fear). 

Oh, oh, oh, 
Speak not of that ! It all is paid. Have 
faith. 
Kraft {doubtingly). 

Yet some would talk of proving faith by works. 



CECIL THE SEER. 393 

Do you imagine she would pass to you ? 
Cecil (looking toward the Right). 

My wife with Kraft ? — How can it be ? — and 

yet 

(^The stage is suddenly illumined with brown light.) 

Efiter — Left — Right — Kraft and Madam 
Cecil, dressed in dark brown clothes^ 
shaped like those of Cecil and Celia. 
Madam Cecil {to Kraft). It matters not what we 

have done. Have faith. 
Kraft {to Madam Cecil with suppressed fear). 
But should I meet my wife whose will I broke, 

And slaves were not set free 

Madam C. Have faith, have faith ! 

Kraft. Or should we two meet Cecil " 

Madam C. (shuddering). 

Oh, oh, oh. 



Madam C. I joined the church when scarcely 
sweet sixteen, 
And never danced, except away from home. 
Kraft. And I, when I was twenty ; and I never 

Let people see me backslide. 
Madam C. And I always 

Appeared to take an interest in the meetings. 
Kraft. And I would often head subscription 
lists 
With more than one could pay, when they were 
due. 



394 CECIL THE SEER. 

Not him ! not him ! 

(recovering herself suddenly^ 

He never can come here. 
Kraft {eagerly). 

You think so — eh ? — Why not ? 
Madam C. {sententious ly). 

He lost his faith. 
Kraft {with cringing hope). 

Is that so ? — Yes ? — but how ? 
Madam C. Why, just because 

Our pastor said, one time, of slavery. 
The institution was divine, God's own. 
He never after set foot in that church/'* 

(Cecilia, beckoning to Cecil who follows her^ 



Madam C. Yes, we were both consistent and dis- 
creet. 
Kraft. But yet, should we meet Cecil 

^° Kraft {with self-congratulatory delight). 

Oh, is that so ! 
Madam C. Besides, he sometimes owned 

To other 

Kraft. Other what ? 

Madam C. Misgivings. 

Kraft {with assumed horror). 

Not 

Believe in things men preached ? 
Madam C. {sanctimoniously). 

He doubted them. 
Kraft (decisively). Then he did not have faith. 



CECIL THE SEER. 395 

comes from the arbor ^ and moves toward 
Kraft and Madam C, who^ being at the 
front of the stage facing the audience^ do 
not see them?) 
Ktiaft {in self-congratulatory way). 

Your husband then had really lost his faith ? 
I wonder if my wife had not lost hers. 
Madam C. Did she not free her slaves ? — Our 
pastor said 
The institution was divine. 
Kraft {deliberatingly). 

Yes, yes. 
Madam C. She did not think it so. 
Kraft. No, she did not. 

But I, I did, you see. I broke her will. 
Madam C. Precisely ! 



Madam C. No ; he did not. 

Kraft. I learned the catechism in my youth ; 

And always said, when asked, that it was true. 
Madam C. Thank God for that ! He was not 

trained as you were. 
Kraft. You know I would not let an ignorant man, 

A slave or poor white, meet me in my parlor. 
Madam C. No ; never ! 
Kraft. When a man is ignorant 

About the doctrines — doubts them, — ^how can he 

Expect that God will welcome him ? 
Madam C. Just so ! 

We never have a God we understand 

Until we learn to judge Him by ourselves. 



396 CECIL THE SEER. 

Kraft. Yes. 

Madam C. And saved her. — 

Kraft. What ? — Oh, yes ! — 

Saved her from the results 

Cecilia {to Kraft and Madam C, as she points to 
Cecil). 

What sophistry- 
Is this ? 
Madam C. {falling on her knees before Cecil, i?i 
abject fear^. 

Oh, Master, did I not have faith ? 
Kraft {also falling on his knees before Cecil). 

Did I not often say **Good Lord" in prayer?" 
Cecil {to Cecilia). 
Are they insane ? 

^' Madam C. Did I not do my best to show myself 

In church ? 
Kraft. Did I not make professions there ? 

Madam C. Did I not bear my cross ?— 
Kraft. A diamond cross 

I gave her ? — 
Madam C. I embroidered one. I showed 

My faith by works. 
Kraft. I, in my business, — 

Oh, how my slaves would work at those church 
fairs ! 

52 What is it you fear ? 
Kraft. Oh, Master ! 
Madam C. Master ! 



CECIL THE SEER, 397 

Cecilia. In part. 

Cecil. Heard you the name 

They called us. 
Cecilia. His who said that " Inasmuch 

As ye have done it to the least of these, 

My brethren, ye have done it unto Me." 
Madam C. Oh, Master, wherefore are we here ? 
Cecil {to Cecilia). 

Where do 

They think themselves ? 
Cecilia. Where false and hellish moods 

Create a false and hellish world to live in. 
Cecil {to Kraft and Madam C). 

What seems the trouble ? " 

{to Cecilia). 

Tell me what to say. 



Cecil. Why do you say that ? 

Madam C. You are so holy, and we are so base. 
Kraft. Oh, wherefore did I kill you ? 
Madam C. Wherefore, oh, 

Oh, wherefore did I load you with abuse ? — 

I did not know you then. 
Cecil. Nor know me now. 

Am I your master ? 
Kraft. It was you we harmed. 

Cecil. What would you that I do for you ? 
Madam C. Oh let 

Us pay it back. 
Kraft. Yes, let us pay it back. 



398 CECIL THE SEER. 

And is there nothing one can do for them 
To free them from their misery ? 
Cecilia. They say 

There is, and truly. Though the Lord forgive. 
In spirit how can spirits feel forgiven 
Ere they undo the wrong their lives have wrought ? 
Ere this had been undone, not even laws 
Of Moses let the trespasser receive 
The benefit of sacrifice ; and how 
Could heavenly joys crown even perfect love 
Save as it served the soul it once had harmed ? 
Cecil (to Madam C. and Kraft). 

What is it, then, that you would do for me ? 
Kraft. What you had done, had we not stayed 

your work. 
Cecil {to Cecilia). 

What ? — Is it possible ? — my plans, my hopes 
Can be fulfilled yet .'* and fulfilled through these "i — 

{to Kraft and Madam C.) 
Well, it may be so. You may serve your time." 
Cecilia. But prove your faith by your fidelity. 

{Q,Y£,\iAh points toward the Right Third En- 
trance. As she does so, Enter— Right 
Upper Entrance — Jem and Milly. Their 

Cecilia. Pay what back? What ?— You said, "It 

all is paid. 
Have faith. " Your faith means faith that God 

forgives. 
If he forgive you, why not feel forgiven ? 



CECIL THE SEER. 399 

dresses are of a grayer shade^ but other- 
wise they resemble those of Cecil and Ce- 
cilia. As Kraft and Madam C. turn 
toward the Right Third Entrance, they 
see Jem and Milly. Both start back 
affrighted^ 
Madam C. See those grim messengers of torture 

coming ! 
Cecil {to Cecilia). 

Why, those are Jem and Milly, our old slaves ! 
She tried to thwart me, when I set them free. 
Cecilia. She thinks them fiends. 
Cecil. How blind ! Their dusky hues 

To me seem fair-formed shadows cast before 
The love of coming angels. 

(Cecilia and Cecil, at her apparent bidding, 

seat themselves again on some of the steps 

leading up to the arbor, and from there 

listen to the following^ 

Madam C. {to Jem and Milly, kneeling before them). 

Spare my soul ! 
Jem. a little thing ter spare ! — I 'spects I will. 
Madam C. You will not drive me off to torment 
then? 

Madam C. You mock us. 
Kraft. Mock us. 

^2 Madam C. Ah, now I know, indeed, that Heaven 

is true ! 
Kraft. And now I know, indeed, the Lord forgives ! 



400 CECIL THE SEER. 

Jem. Come, come, ole missus, yer mixed up on 
dis. 

De debil not so black as he am painted. 

He's white, — a missus too ! When yer gets dah 
{^pointing down), 

Jes* take one look in dat ah lake. You'll see 'im. 
Madam C. Oh, oh, then you have seen him ? 
Jem. Wall, I's been 

Dun gone down da below, — a slave, yer see. 

But now, I's heah. 
Madam C. And I must be your slave ? 

Jem. No ; we*s not mean enough ter own no slaves. 

(^Gesturing toward Milly.) 
Madam C. You would not drive us to the darkness? 
Jem. No. 

We's come away from dah, or 'spected so 

Till we met 

(Jem looks at her sharply^ 

Madam C. Who ? Oh, take me not 

Jem. Fur *im ?-— 

Law sakes alive ! Yer kneelin'. 
Madam C. I will serve 

For all my life 

^* Cecilia. Wherever spirits influence the spirit. 
Cecil. Ah, then, through others' lives they work 

their work ? 
Cecilia. Perchance they may ; perchance they 

may do more. 
Cecil. Do more ? — What mean you ? — live again 

on earth ? — 



CECIL THE SEER. 4OI 

Jem. De debil ? — better not! 

(Jem and Milly turn to leave at Right Third 

Entra7ice^ 
Madam C. I must pay back the service forced 
from you. 
You will not, cannot, must not cast me off. 
Jem {turning around toward her). 

Dem folks dat's free perfers ter choose deir help. 
Exeunt — Right Third Entrance — Jem and Milly, 

hurriedly. 
Madam C. {to Kraft who seems to desire to linger). 
Oh, we must overtake them ! 

{She pulls Kraft after her.) 
Exemit — Right Third Entrance — Madam C. and 

Kraft. 
(As they leave, the stage is again illumined with golden 

light.) 
Cecilia (looking after them). 

Who can tell 
What ages it may take to overtake 
The wrong one's own wrong lashes into flight ! 
Cecil. But how and where can spirits right their 
wrong ? " 

Nay, if they shall, they have lived ; yet who ever 
Met mortal yet whose memory could recall 
A former state ? 
Cecilia. He might recall the state 

Without the circumstance. To know, bespeaks 
Experience. To be born with intuitions 
And insight, is to know. To sun new growth, 



402 CECIL THE SEER. 

Where are they going ? 
Cecilia. Earthward, so it seems. 



Why should all not be given an equal chance 
Unshadow'd by dark memories of the past ? 

Cecil. But if the past were bright ? 

Cecilia. If wholly so, 

Would one need progress ? or could he be cursed 
With deeper woe than thought that could recall, 
Enslaved in flesh, a former liberty ? 
Why lure to suicide, that, breaking through 
The lines determining development, 
May plunge the essence down to deeper depths 
There planted till new growth take root anew ? 

Cecil. Must all new growth be planted in the earth ? 

Cecilia. Is any germ that grows not planted there ? 

Cecil. What trains it then ? 

Cecilia. Some say that where it falls, 

In age, clime, country, family, fleshly form, 
The mighty wheels of matter — earth and moon, 
And sun and planets, all the unseen stars 
Of all the universe that round it roll — 
With one unending whirl grind out its fate ; 
Yet only earthly fate. Flung to and fro. 
And torn by care and toil and pain and loss, 
The spirit knows in spirit it is free ; 
And, true to its high nature, may pass through 
The terror of the ordeal with all 
The finer flour of nature's grain preserved. 

Cecil. So though careers be fated, souls are free? 

Cecilia. The consciousness of freedom comes 
from force 



CECIL THE SEER, 403 

Cecil. And will she serve her slaves ? 

Cecilia. Why should she not ? 



Which is of heaven ; the consciousness of fate 
From that which is of earth ; and both are true ; 
Or that which makes all feel them both is false. 
Cecil. But if some spirits thus return to earth, 

Why not all spirits ? 
Cecilia. Who has traced for you 

The history of spirits ? If they came 
From God, as matter came, why came they 

not 
With matter? 
Cecil. What ? — Through beasts and birds, you 

mean? 
Cecilia. Why not ? — Why should not these have 
endless life ? 
Why, if they have it, should their course be 

checked 
Ere they attain the highest ? — and, if not, 
Why should their essence not move up through 
man? 
Cecil. Is man the son of beasts ? 
Cecilia. In flesh why not ? — 

But may be bom of flesh and of the Spirit. 
Devoid of spirit, all the body's nerves 
Are lifeless as the wires, when rent apart, 
Which once were thrilling with electric 

force. 
But ah ! that force, though flown to air, comes 

back 
To give new life wherever new forms fit it. 



404 CECIL THE SEER. 

Why should not those who were the most op- 
pressed 

So, while the whole creation of the flesh, 
In groans and travails of successive births, 
Prepares each new formation for its need, 
Why should not psychic force, the breath of Him 
In whom all live and move and have their 

being, 
With rhythm mightier than the pulse of lungs, 
Or day and night, or autumn and the spring, 
Pass up through all the lower ranks of life, 
Through birth and on through death, from air to 

breath, 
From breath to air, till, last, it reaches man ; 
And, taught the lesson there of human 

hands 
Which master matter, and of each man 

make 
A fellow worker in creation's work. 
And, taught the lesson of the human voice. 
Which for each new conception frames a 

word 
To phase and phrase it, and of each man 

makes 
A fellow-thinker in creation's thought, — 
Why should not this force, moulded by the 

hand 
And head, attain in man its final end. 
And dowered with will and reason, freed at 

death 
From its material framework, hold its mould, 
And reach the last result of all that is, 



CECIL THE SEER, 405 

Have most that serve them where but souls are 
served ? 

Where that which served the serpent is the 
son, — 

A spirit in the image of the Father ? 
Cecil. These words recall an ancient eastern 
dream ; 

And, in one's waking hours, can it be true? 
Cecilia. Think you a true soul ever served a 
thought 

Not souled in truth, whatever were its 
form? 
Cecil. But what then of the Christ ? 
Cecilia. Did He not say 

He lived in spirit ere He lived on earth ? — 
Cecil. He said He came for others. 
Cecilia. Do you think 

A spirit such as His would need to come 

For His own good ? 
Cecil. And yet that sacrifice ? — 

Cecilia. He sacrificed the spirit-life for life 

On earth, and life on earth for spirit-life. 
Cecil. And but fulfilled a common role ? 
Cecilia. Not common. 

Did He fulfill our spirit's best ideal ; 

For spirits live in thought. How can they 
know 

Of any God beyond their thought of him ? 
Cecil. But if they know the Son ? 
Cecilia. They know, at best, 

A " Son of Man," as well, too, as "of God," — 

In spirit one with Him, but not in frame. 



406 CECIL THE SEER. 

All things inverted and turned inside out, 
The last in station may become the first, 
The lowly lordlike and the high the low, 
The crown'd the chain'd, the crucified the 
crown'd. 



Cecil. And yet a " Saviour " — 
Cecilia. What inspires, but spirit ? — 

Or saves, but inspiration ? He — enough — 
All must move upward would they find the 
Christ. 

{Rising and pointing upward.) 
Cecil {rising). 

But ought they not to work for others too? 
Cecilia. In spirit those work most for truth, who 
most 
Are true ; for all are led, yet all are leaders. 
Thus does the line of being bridge the gulf 
Between the world of worm and fire, — the hell 
Forever following life not saved on earth, — 
And that eternal rest where souls, made free 
From longer craving a material frame 
Through which to signal their vain selfhood, 

lose 
Their lower life to find a higher life, 
Where now their spirits are at one with His 
Whose love creates but that it may bestow ; 
And, even as the Christ is in the Father, 
So, too, become joint heirs with Him of 
all things. 
(Cecilia and Cecil move upward, and finally dis- 
appear.) 



CECIL THE SEER. 407 

Exeunt — Back Center — Cecilia and Cecil. 
In the meantime^ the following is chanted 
by a choir, either invisible or visible at 
the rear of the stage. 

In the world of care and sorrow 

Cloud and darkness veil the way, 
But in heaven there waits a morrow 

Where the night will turn to day, 
Where the spirit-light in rising, 

Yet will gild the clouds of fear, 
And the shadows, long disguising, 

Lift and leave the landscape clear. 

When the soul, amid that glory, 

Finds its earthly garments fall. 
Harm and anguish end their story. 

Health and beauty come to all ; 
No more fleshly chains can fetter 

Faith that longs to soar above ; 
None to duty seems a debtor, 

And the only law is love. 

There is ended earthly scheming, 

Earthly struggle sinks to sleep ; 
Souls have passed from deed to dreaming, 

And they have no watch to keep ; 
For the world has wrought its mission, 

And the wheels of labor rest ; 
And the faithful find fruition, 

And the true become the blest. 

{The stage is darkened ; and the curtain that 
formed the back of Scene First in this Act 
falls upon it^ 



4o8 CECIL THE SEER. 

Scene Third. Same as Scene First of this Act, 
While the stage is still dark, unseen by audience^ 
Enter — Left Second Entrance — Cecil, in 
dressing-gown covering completely the dress 
worn by him in the last scene. He re- 
clines on the bed, as in the First Scene of 
this Act. 

{The stage is made light.) 
Enter — Left Second Entrance — Celia, dressed 
as in Scene First of this Act. In addition, 
she brings a hat and shawl, which, as she 
becomes visible to audience, she is seen 
putting on. 
Celia (arranging her hat and shawl). 

The time has come to take my morning walk. 
I almost fear to leave him ! 

Enter — Right Second Entrance — Jem. 
{to Jem). 

You will stay 
While I am gone, and keep good watch of him ? 
Jem. Yes, don't yer be afear'd. 

Exit — Left Second Entrance — Celia, 
(Jem looks out after her, then shuts door. ) 

I'll watch and pray. 
1*11 watch for dem, 

{^pointing toward Right Second Entrance?) 

And pray for dis yeah niggah. 
Fo* Gawd, dey done dare hahm de ole Marse now. 



CECIL THE SEER. 409 

What dey would hahm would be de udder 
pusson. 
{^He goes to Right Second Entrance^ and opens door. ) 
Now yer's all safe, suh. She 'ab gone away. 
Enter — Right Second Entrance — Kraft, 
Madam Cecil a7id two M.^.^, all dressed 
in out-door costume. All of them except 
Kraft cross the stage toward the couch. 
Kraft remains behind, and, taking a 
bank-note from his pocket-book, says to 
himself. 
Kraft. One used to courts should understand the 
use 
Of what they term court-plaster. There is 

nothing 
Can stick together lips inclined to peach 
Like strong bank-notes. Here, Jem. 
(Jem moves toward him, Kraft hands him the note?) 

See here. Take this. 
It ought to keep your mouth shut. 
Jem (taking money and pocketing it). 

Law now, Marse, 
And pocket, too, suh. 
Kraft. You are wise, my man. 

(Kraft crosses to alcove where Madam C. and 
the two Men have been looking at Cecil. 
He looks at Cecil, and speaks to them^ 
No doubt ! — You see the man is living still. 
You both can swear to that ? 



4IO CECIL THE SEER, 

First Man. Oh, yes. 

Second Man. Yes, yes. 

Kraft (to Jem). 

What says the doctor, Jem ? Will he recover ? 
Jem. I 'spec' he 'spec's it. 
Kraft {to Madam Cecil). 

We are safe, at least. 

Has lived now long enough — for that. 
Madam C. (aside). Yet I 

Could almost pray to know that he was dead ! 
Cecil (in bewilderment^ starting suddenly^ and sitting 
up in the bed). 

And did you think I wanted to be living ? 



Curtain. 



CECIL THE SEER. 41 1 



ACT THIRD. 

An interval of two years is supposed to elapse between 
the occiirre7ices in Acts Second and Third. 

Scene First : A room in the house of Y'r.y.^man, who 
has married Celia, and is living with her in a 
Northern " Border " State. Near the center of the 
room, set with dishes for a meal, is a table. Bread 
and a pitcher of milk have already been placed on it. 
Three or four chairs are near the table. At the 
Left is a closet, and about the room other articles of 
furniture. Backing, a wall containing a window 
or door, etc. Entrances by doors at the Right and 
Left near the Front. 

The curtain rising discloses Jem with overcoat and hat 
on, standing in front of the table. 

Jem {to himself). 

De station am a mile off. Whar's de dahky 
Dat wouldn't get hungry 'foah he got dat fah ? 
(taking bread from table and putting it in his pocket.) 
Dey all don't want to see 'im stahve ; not dey ! 
An' dry up, no ! 

(taking up milk pitcher, and looking at it.) 

Why, 'sakes alive ! dah's marse — 
And what's he call me calf faw ? 



412 CECIL THE SEER. 

(^pouring out a tumbler-full of milk, drinking it, 
then hiding the tumbler in the closet?} 

Dat am good. 
Dis dahky's glad dat ole Marse Cecil's comin'. 
But ole Marse Cecil, — wondeh how he'll take 
To seein' his Miss Celia Missus Freeman. 
It 'peahed as how he liked dat ah young gal, 
An' when ole Missus Cecil she got out I 

An' married dat Marse Kraft, why, me and Milly, ^ 



55 Did Faith look well ? 
Freeman {seating himself in one of the chairs, 
and taking a newspaper from his pocket 
and unfolding it.) 

Much as of old she did. 
But paler — that is, till she chanced on me, 
Celia. And then ? 
Freeman. She flushed. 

Celia. It needed but a spark 

To kindle the old fire. 
Freeman. In her ? — or me ? — 

I saw no light. I only thought of ashes. 
Celia. I know her nun's veil seemed a shroud to 

you. 
Freeman. Your white one, Celia, when I married 
you, 
Seemed like an angel's. Now that you have 

dropped it, 
I know it was. 
Celia. I thank you. Yet, at times, 



CECIL THE SEER. 4I3 

We 'spected how Marse Cecil *d like to get 

As fuh de oder way wid his Miss Celia. — 

But now Marse Freeman 's got her, got her tight. 

Enter — Left — Freeman and Celia, the latter with 
tray containing more dishes for table. 

Freeman {to Jem). 
It's time to go, Jem. 

Jem. Go ? — I's goin', — gone ! 

Exit — Right — Jem. 

Celia ^^ (arranging the dishes on the table, and suspi- 



I fear mere pity led you to propose. 
Freeman. Was it your pity led you to accept ? 
Celia. You know you thought that I had closed 
the door 

To every other suitor by my act 

In closing it on all except us two 

When we were nursing Cecil. 
Freeman. And you know 

You thought that I had closed the door on Faith 

Because of that which Father Hycher said. 

But — nonsense ! — what if pity were a motive ? 
Celia. Pity is but a sadder kind of love — 
Freeman. No love at all. But as a motive to 
it— 

A door to open, — why complain of it, 

If only opening where we wish to go ? 

(Celia, having ended arranging the things 
on the table, stands back looking at it.) 

And all is ready — is it ? — for our guest ? 
Celia. To think that Cecil, etc. 



414 CECIL THE SEER. 

ciously examinhig the bread-plate and milk- 
pitcher^ while shaking her head at the departing 
Jem ; then standing back, and looking first at 
the table, and, after that, at Freeman). 
To think that Cecil should be here, and well ! 
Freeman. And such a note as his too ! Why, a 
boy, 
A boy in love, could not more gracefully 
Let tumble forth from his embarrassed lips 
The whole sweet contents of his blushing cheeks, 
Than he did, pelting, helter-skelter, out 
Those metaphors at us, to vent his joy 
In welcoming our own ! 
Celia. How strange he felt so ! 

Freeman. Strange? — I am worthy of you ; you of 
me ; 
And both of us of Cecil's interest. 
He knows how we two nursed him. Now, at last. 
His voyage at an end, his health restored, 
It ought to give him joy, and pride as well. 
To learn how we, through love for him, at first, 
Have come to love each other. Every soul 
Is proudest of the good itself has fathered. 
Celia. I know ; and Cecil has a heart so kind ! 

But I must go, and get the breakfast ready. 
Freeman {taking Celia's hand). 

But, first, my Celia, let me break my fast. 

{kisses her.) 
One kiss of yours could make the thrilling lips 



CECIL THE SEER, 415 

Go fluttering all day long like Cupid's wings 
To bear sweet words of love to all they meet. 

Exit — Left — Celi A . 
(Freeman's eyes follow her as she disappear s.") 
I told no lie. She lights my life with joy. 
But, oh, had she been Faith, joy had been 

bliss ! — 
Poor Celia, she shall never learn the truth. 
She thinks my nature water. I did once: 
As each new face looked love upon its depths, 
I thought they might be filled with that ; but, ah, 
My heart is like a photographer's glass 
Whereon the image once impressed remains; 
And Celia' s face is always framed in Faith's. 
I fear I love the picture for the frame. 
{looking out of the hack window nearest the Right.') 
Why, Cecil here already ? — -must be he — 
(Freeman opeiis the door at the Right.) 
Enter — Right — C-ECii. followed by Jem. Both 
wear out-door costumes^ Cecil an over- 
coat. He also carries a cane and limps. 
As he enters, he and Freeman shake 
hands. 
A hearty welcome, friend ! I saw you coming. 
How well you look ! You are well too, not so 1 
Cecil {removing his hat, which Jem takes). 

Oh, yes. 
Freeman {noticing that Cecil limps). 
Lame yet ? — 



41 5 CECIL THE SEER. 

Cecil. Shall always be. One foot 

Was caught inside the grave. I pulled away ; 
But drag the foot-stone. 
Freeman (Jtelping Cecil take off his overcoat). 

Not the head-stone though ! 
Cecil. I hope not. 

Freeman {Jiandi7ig Cecil's overcoat to Jem, who 
takes it in addition to the hat). 

Here, Jem, take these out with you. 
(Freeman tm-ns to get a chair for Cecil.) 
Jem {aside, as he stands 7iear the Left Entrance). 
I'd like to see what ole Marse Cecil '11 do 
When he fine out Miss Celia's Missus Free- 
man. 
I know, from what he say, dat he don't 'spec so. 
Exit — Right — Jem. 
Freeman {^placing a chair behind Cecil). 

Sit here. 
Cecil {sitting in the chair and looking around the 
room). 

I thank you. — What a pleasant home ! 
And have you heard, of late, about my wife? 
Freeman. You knew she married Kraft? How 

mean in her! 
Cecil. Oh, no; not that! 
Freeman {sitting in chair). 

But ge-tting her divorce — 
Accusing you! 



CECIL THE SEER. 417 

Cecil. Kraft managed it, of course. 

I had deserted her. 
Freeman. You could not help it. 

Cecil. No ; thanks to her — and heaven ! But let 
that rest. 
When one has well nigh slept the sleep of death — 
You know I thought me dead — ^it seems not sad, 
On waking, to begin one's life anew. 
Freeman. And we too thought you dead. 
Cecil. I acted so } 

Freeman. You acted not at all. You did not 

stir. 
Cecil. No wonder ! Had you seen what I saw 
then. 
Your senses would have been as hushed as mine. 
Freeman. What was it ? 
Cecil. I scarce know — a vision — dream — 

Perhaps a trance. — ^Wait, till I tell you it. 
Freeman. If dreams came true, a man might prize 

them more. 
Cecil. At times, they do come true. Mine will. 
The power 
That handles Kraft can make that devil spin 
Like potter's clay to work out his designs. 
It all was prophesied. 
Freeman. Was prophesied ? 

Cecil. Yes, — in my vision, — all about — your mar- 
riage. 
Freeman. My marriage ? 



4l8 CECIL THE SEER. 

Cecil. Yes, and then such joy for me! — 

And sure to come too! 
Freeman. Sure? — I envy you. 

Cecil. I thought me dead. I woke and all was 
life. 

Above, I saw the stars ; far east, the dawn. 

If earth rolls on, it yet will bring full day. 
Freeman. And bright may heaven, too, make it ! 
Cecil. That it will. 

Earth is a field where hidden treasure lies. 

All search for it ; their searching wakes their 
thoughts. 

And draws out their desires, and aims their acts. 

At last, they look and live for that alone 

Which lures beneath appearances. Few find it. 

The few that do, find that which makes the 
world 

Worth living in, and worth yon circling dome. 

The crown God gives it, jeweled all with stars. 
Freeman. And you have found it ? 
Cecil. Freeman, yes, I have; 

And know why sometimes earth seems holy 
ground. 

And those that tread it Godlike. Then Heaven's 
face 

Back there behind the veil shines dimly through it. 

But wait. I yet will tell you. In our souls. 

Far down within, are depths like sunken seas, 

All dark! — yet only when concealed from Ught 



CECIL THE SEER. 4I9 

And from the face of love they else might 

image. 
And my soul — you should know its depths to 

know 
My coming joy; yet need not. You will guess 

it. 
Freeman. Your mood alone can make one guess 

enough 
To offer his congratulations now. 
(Freeman rises. So does Cecil, and they shake 
hands. ) 
But time, it is, your coming were announced; 
And one here will be but too glad to see you. 
Exit — Left — Freeman. 
Cecil {reseating himself). 

How kind his welcome ! It is worth some loss 
To learn we own some friends. — And, Faith, too, 

Faith,— 
She too, he says, will be so glad to see me. 
I always liked her ; and I always knew 
The two were lovers, and they knew I knew it. 
This must have been the reason why his note 
Made such a mere brief mention of his mar- 
riage ; 
As if, forsooth, I knew the news already. 
I thought I must have missed one letter from 

him. 
But no ; what need of sending me her name ! — 
Who could she be but Ji'aith ! — This very room 



420 CECIL THE SEER, 

Seems like her too. No setting so becomes 

A jewel of a woman as a home, — 

A loving home like this. Thank God, some 

souls 
Need not to die before they find their mates. 
And I shall not. — Ah, when that shot was fired 
That almost freed my soul, you, Celia, thought 
I sank unconscious. No, no; not before 
Heaven let me hear this : ' ' He is dead for 

me. 
The only man I ever loved is dead! " 
Then came my dream. — But you, you are so 

young,— 
May deem yourself too young for me ! Yet I — 
I run no risk. Soon as I show my spirit, 
Your own sweet spirit which is one with mine, 
Will recognize it, as we both thank heaven 
For cloud and storm and flash that struck me 

down. 
And heaven in life that followed death in life. 
Enter — Left — Celia. 

{She carries another dish for table. As she en- 
ters^ before she is where she ca7i speak to 
Cecil, he says^ aside.) 
What ? — Celia here ? And I was never told it ? — 

(rising to greet her.) 
Why, Freeman said that I should find a friend. 
I have — the friend to whom I owe my life. 



CECIL THE SEER. 42 1 

Celia {^placing the dish on table, and shaking hands 
with him). 

Had it been lost, it would have been for me. 
Cecil. And now when saved, let it be saved for you. 
Celia. For me and all who love you. 
Cecil {aside). Ah, who love ! 

(to Celia.) 

I would that I could stay forever with you. 
Celia. You would not go away } 
Cecil. What, would you wish me 

To make my home with you ? 
Celia, Why, yes. — Why not ? 

Cecil. But I must work. 
Celia. Yet people sue — not so ? — 

In any place ? 
Cecil (taking her hand). 

Shall I begin it here ? 
Celia. Begin and keep on too. 
Cecil. I think I will. 

Celia. It would so please us all! 
Cecil. And could you think 

That I could feel at home away from you? 
Celia. How kind in you to say that! — You will 
live 

Right here with me and Freeman? 
Cecil. You and Freeman? 

Celia. Why, certainly! — He wants it, too. 
Cecil. I see. — 

You two together saved my life, of course. 



422 CECIL THE SEER. 

Celia. Of course we saved it, if it could be 

saved. 
Cecil. And so you live with him? 
Celia. Because of that — 

It was our mutual interest in you. 

Enter — Left — Freeman. 
{Just as he enters., Celia, bowing to Cecil and 
gesturing toward the table., indicates that 
she must prepare for the meal., and moves 
toward the Left.) 
Freeman (holding newspaper in hand., and bringing 
it to Cecil). 
Here comes the morning paper! Would you like 
it? 

Exit — Left — C ELI a. 
(Cecil bows., takes paper from Freeman, and 
sits in chair. Freeman returns to 
closet near Left., and., while carrying on 
the following conversation., finds there a 
small bottle., which., when presently he 
leaves the room., he takes with him.) 

^^ Cecil. Celia, yes.— Why not ? 

Freeman. You mean ? — 

Cecij.. Oh yes, you think she is too young ! 
But, Freeman, love is of eternity, and knows 
No youth, no age ; — is Hke the air of heaven 
That tosses in its play the dangling fringe 
Athrill with grace about cur outward guise, 
And runs its unseen fingers through our hair, 



CECIL THE SEER. 423 

Cecil. She tells me I must live with you and 

her. 
Freeman. Yes, we had hoped so. 
Cecil {looking at Celia's retreating form). 

Freeman, this is bliss ! 
Freeman. Yes, we are very happy. 
Cecil. That we are ! — ■ 

Men do not often wed their own ideals. 
Freeman. I know it. I have thought it through; 
and yet, 
Without that, life can have some brightness left. 
Cecil. Without that? — You mistake my meaning, 
Freeman. 
I need not live without that. No, indeed! 
She loves me, Freeman; not a doubt of it. 
Freeman. Who? 
Cecil. Celia. 

Freeman-. Celia ? '' 

Cecil. Celia is my love. 

Freeman. Your love, eh ? — Has she told you 
that t 

And brushes to a glow our flushing cheeks, 
But has more serious lasting moods than these. 
It is the substance of the breath we breathe 
That keeps the blood fresh, and the heart in 

motion ; 
And, e'en when these give out, it still is there 
To buoy us up and bear on high the spirit. 
Freeman. Oh, yes !— but Celia ?— 



424 CECIL THE SEER. 

Cecil. She has. 

Freeman. Told you she loves you? 

Cecil. Is it past belief? 

Freeman. Well — yes — I think it is. 

Cecil. You know not what 

Is in a woman's heart! 

(Cecil looks down at his paper as if reading?) 
Freeman {aside). It may be not. 

I purpose to find out, though. — Is he mad? 

Am I mad? — My sole proof that I am not, 

Lies in my thinking that I may be so. — 

Humph ! I will hold this thinking and keep sane ; 

And if it be a cool head takes the trick, 

Will find what trick is here. 

(Freeman opens door at the Left.) 

Enter— -Left — Celia . 

i^She carries something else for the table ^ 

Cecil {seeing Celia coming). 

Here she comes — 
Will tell you it herself. 
Celia {placing what she brings on the table ^ then 
busying herself with arranging things on it) . 
Now I am coming 
To stay with you awhile. 
Cecil {to Celia). 

To be with those 
Who really love one, is a new delight. 
You said you loved me, Celia., 



CECIL THE SEER. 425 

Celia. Why, of course — 

Just as I always have, and always must. 
Of course I do. 
Exit — Left — Freeman, lifting his hands i?t a be- 
wildered way. 
Cecil {aside, as Celia turns away for something). 
Of course ! 
{then noticing that Freeman had left?) 

Why ! — he is gone. — 
Humph ! Who could wonder that he thinks it 

strange? 
I wonder Celia fails to think so too. 
It proves how well our natures mate each other. 

{to Celia.) 
Look — Freeman's vanished, Celia. — Have a care. 
To love too much may make him envious ; 
And chewing on the cud of jealousy 
Is not a pleasant practice for one's friends. 
For though you give them naught to work upon, 
So much the more the grinders work away 
And grind themselves the sharper, — ay, and grind 
The words that pass them too — made sharp as 

arrows 
To pierce the soul they hit. 
Celia. No fear of him ! — 

We both love you. 
Cecil. Ah, I shall punish him! 

When he comes in, — shall send him after Faith. 
Celia. No; you must not do that. 



426 CECIL THE SEER. 

Cecil. Oh, yes, I shall. 

Celia {taking a seat on the opposite side of the table 
from him). 

You would not dare. — 
Cecil. Not dare ? — Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 

Celia. No, no ; I beg you not to 

Cecil. Not to, Celia ? 

Celia. You must not. 

Cecil. Must not ? — And you really mean it ? — 

Well, if you be in earnest, I will not. 

But, bless me, if I see the reason why. 
Celia. He loves Faith. 
Cecil. Yes; and where would be my joke, 

Unless he loved her? 
Celia. There was deep, deep love, 

I sometimes think it saddens him to-day. 
Cecil. What? what? — not happy in his married 

life? 
Celia. Oh, one could not say that — so kind, you 

know. 
Cecil. Yes, yes? — and she? — is she not kind to 

him? 
Celia. Who? Faith? 
Cecil. Yes, Faith. 

Celia. He never hears from her. 

Cecil. What? — Are they separated? 
Celia. Separated! 

She went — you had not heard it? — to a convent. 
Cecil. She did? — Poor Freeman! — When was that? 



CECIL THE SEER. 42/ 

Celia. Last year. 

Cecil (in a perplexed way). 

But when was Freeman married ? 
Celia. Why, last March. — 

He wrote you all about it. 
Cecil {startled). 

No ; not all, — 
Not half a page. 
Celia {surprised). 

Why, twenty pages, friend ! — 
We both wrote twenty ; and you never got them ? 
Cecil. Why, no; you see I had not heard of 
Faith— 

{hesitatingly?) 
And you now — you are living with him here ? 
Celia. Yes, living ! — Did you think that we were 

boarding .-* 
Cecil {aside). 

What horror haunts me ? — But I must not show 
it. 
{slowly^ and struggling to co7iceal emotion^ 
You know — it seems — why, strange — when — he 
loved Faith. 
Celia. What ? — That he married me ? — He told 
me all ; 
But Faith seems dead. 
Cecil {cofttrolli?ig himself). 

And he is kind, eh, Celia? 
Celia. Yes, very kind. 



428 CECIL THE SEER. 

Cecil. Forgive me, will you, Celia ? 

You see that I have always loved you, Celia, — 
Just as a father loves a child, you know ; 
And if my love be anxious for you, Celia, 
Enter — Left — Freeman. 
{He is not observed by Cecil or Celia. He re- 
places in the closet the little bottle taken 
from it, when 07i the stage the previous 
time. While doing so, he evidently hears 
the following conversation^) 
You will not think it strange ? 
Celia. Nay, not a throb 

In all my heart, but you could rightly know it. 
Cecil. Your heart's wish is fulfilled ? 
Celia. Yes, yes, my love 

Is deep and true. No wife could love one more. 
Exit — Left — Freeman. 
Cecil. Then you have two friends, — him and me. 
You stand 
Between us. 
Celia (risi?ig). I must go now. 
Cecil {rising). Yes, my daughter ! 

Exit — Left — C ELI A. 
{standing, and looking after her retreating form). 
So close the clouds of heaven upon my dream ! — 
Not God, — the devil — he, he rules the world ! — 
Then let me rule it with him. — But no, no! — 
Oh, what a universe of agencies 
Are centered in one life that may be both 



CECIL THE SEER. 429 

The God and devil of the soul it loves ! 
Yet wits were given one to outwit the world. 
If Celia be what I have dreamed she is, 
The world must work its work upon her will 
Without one touch of mine, or hint, or sigh, 
To make her life more tempted or less true. — 
Oh, cursed world, in which forswearing love 
Is our best proof that we would foster it ! 
But wait ! — What moves me ? — Am I but a fool 
Controlled by dreams ? — No, no ; I had a 

dream ; 
But this, at least, is none, — that each who aids 
An angel upward for himself prepares 
Angelic friendship ; and if there be spheres 
Where spirit can reveal itself to spirit, 
And sympathy be sovereign, there must be 
One soul supremely loved. I dreamed no 

dream. 
High, knightly chivalry whose love protects, 
Thy knightly honor is the sacred thing 
Of which thy pride is conscious. But — oh 

God !— 
To be just on the threshold of all bliss : 
And fail. — Fail? — No. Let Freeman have her 

now 
A few brief years. — I dream with her forever. 

Enter — Right — Jem. 
Ah, what is that? — Who comes? — Well, Jem, 

what now? 



430 CECIL THE SEER. 

Jem. Some white folks heah as wants ter speak 

wid yer. 
Cecil {in surprise). 

With me? — I have no friends here. — Bid them 

enter. 

Enter — Right — as Jem holds open door., Three 
Gentlemen. They wear overcoats and 
hold their hats in their hands. Cecil 
exchanges bows with them^ and motions to- 
ward the chairs. 

And will you sit? 
First Gentleman. No, thanks. We have no time. 

Our party's first convention meets to-morrow. 

The news is ominous. We may have war. 

We came as a committee to request 

To hear from you. 
Cecil. To hear from me? — and why? 

First Gent. You suffer from the wrongs of slavery 

That we oppose. 
Cecil. But here I am a stranger. 

First Gent. Good reputation is to good men 
what 

Fine perfumes are to flowers. A charm it has 

Which lures the sense that heeds it to a search 

That will not cease till finding its fair source. 
Cecil. You do me too much honor. 
First Gent. Honor us; 

And let our people hear you. 



CECIL THE SEER. 43 1 

Cecil. If my words 



First Gent. The words of men whose deeds have 
proved them true 
Are also true. 
Cecil. Thanks. If you think them so, 

They may at least command your interest. 
And he whose words can wake the earth to 

thought 
Has heaven's own warrant that he should be 

heard. 
Yes ; I will come. 
First Gent. Thanks. 

Second Gent and Third. Thanks. 

{All move toward Left Second Entrance. Jem 
who is nearest it opens door there. Cecil 
and Gents exchange bows.) 
Cecil. We meet to-morrow. 

Exeunt — Right — Three Gents, Cecil and Jem. 



Scene Second : An open field or village green. Back- 
ing in the distance, village houses, and beyond them 
hill sce7iery. Extending diagonally across stage 
from the place of the Right Third Entrance toward 
that of the Back Center, a cottage fronted by a porch, 
the latter being a platform elevated a foot or two 
above the rest of the stage. At the Left of the stage 
are trees and a tent, apparently one of a soldiers' 
encampment beyond it. 

Entrances : Right Second between trees, Right 



432 CECIL THE SEER. 

Upper from a door opening from the cottage on to the 

porch; Back Center from behind the cottage ; Left 

Second, Third and Upper, from behind trees, or the 

tent. 

As the curtain rises, Soldiers and Populace are 

seen grouped at the Left. 

{They sing as follows .•) 

The trumpets call to action 

Through all the threatened land 
No more is heard of faction. 
The time has come to band. 
What soul can see 
The state in fear and fail to be 
Beneath the flag, enrolled with all 
That heed the trumpet's call .? 
No patriot is he who can see 
The state in fear and fail to be 
Beneath the flag, enrolled with all 
That heed the trumpet's call. 

The best of men are brothers. 

The worst can be a foe ; 
And not for self but others, 
True men to battle go. 
No longer meek, 
Where wrong is cruel, right is weak, 
Or aught has brought the base to band,— > 
They throng to lend a hand. 
No true man is he who can see 
The state in fear, and fail to be 
Beneath the flag, enrolled with all 
That heed the trumpet's call. 



CECIL THE SEER. 433 

Who, think you, live in story 

That live for self alone ? 
Who care to swell his glory 
That cares not for their own ? 
In every strife 
That stirs the pulse to nobler life, 
The man that has the thrilling heart, 
He plays the thrilling part. 
No hero is he who can see 
The state in fear, and fail to be 
Beneath the flag, enrolled with all 
That heed the trumpet's call. 

Exeunt — Left — Soldiers and Populace. 

Enter — Back Ce7iter — Cecil, in out-door costume. 

Enter — Right Second — Faith, dressed as a nun. 
Cecil {to himself^. 

These clouds of war break like a thunder-clap 

Amid clear skies of summer ; but will bring 

Our plant of freedom to a finer fruitage. 
{suddenly observing Faith.) 

Faith Hycher ? 
Faith. Yes — on business. 

Cecil. With me t 

Faith. Old friends of ours are here — have interest 

In land near by us. Being of the south 

They came to deed it so as not to lose it; 

And stand arrested. People deem them spies. 
Cecil. AVho are they? 
Faith. Why, my mother, Father Hycher, 

Lowe, Blaver, Kraft 



434 CECIL THE SEER, 

Cecil. His wife too ? 

Faith. Yes. 

Cecil. Humph, humph ! 

Faith. Their holdings were not small. The time 
was brief. 

All came here who might need to sign their papers. 
Cecil. And what can I do ? 
Faith. Say you know them — you 

And Freeman. 
Cecil. You have seen him — Freeman? 
Faith {hesitating). N< 

Cecil {kindly). 

I understand you. 
Faith. It was not his fault: 

I was deceived. 



5' Faith, you and I have loved supremely, — yet 

Our love has loved another. — Could this be 

Of that form which we walked with in our dreams ? 

Faith. Why 

Cecil. Did you ever think that all our dreams 

Are in ourselves ; and this form too may be there ? 
They say that human brains, ay, all our frames 
Are doubled. — If so, why? — For use ? — then whose? 
"Who is it twins existence with us here ? 
Can it be our own real, live, better self 
Which under consciousness we vaguely feel 
Dreams while we wake and wakes the while we 

dream. 
Recalls what we forget, incites, and is 



CECIL THE SEER. 435 

Cecil. By whom? 

Faith. By Father Hycher. 

Cecil. Yet now you wish to help the Father? 
Faith. Yes. 

Cecil. As I should help the Krafts ? — You think 
I should ?— " 
You do. I see. — Your friends shall have my 

help. 
Faith. How kind! 
Exit — Right — after exchanging bows with Cecil, 

Faith. 
Cecil {to himself^ as he stands near this Entrance^ 
and dose to the porch). 

For her, for me, for all whose paths 
Of honor and of sympathy divide, 



Less form than spirit, but, because a spirit, 
Heaven's representative, our guardian, guide, 
And all that tells of God ? You know all praise 
The men dependent only on themselves. 
Yet why ? — Is it so noble to be free 
From love, or wish for love ? Or own these men 
A subtle consciousness of nobler love 
Wkich, in the spirit-life, is all in all? 
Know they that earthly forms which seem divine 
But image that within which is divine ? — 
If you have wed the church, Faith, I have not ; 
And yet the bonds that bind us may not differ. — 
And so. Faith — yes — your friends shall have my 
help, etc. 



436 CECIL THE SEER. 

One choice alone remains — to dwell content 

With loneliness, and one's ideal, and God. 
Enter — Right Upper — coming suddenly from the 

cottage on to the porch, Celia. 
Celia {to Cecil). 

Save, save my husband ! 
Cecil. Save from what ? 

Celia. From death, 

From certain death. 
Cecil. To march to war is not 

To march to certain death. 
Celia. My throbbing heart 

Would spend its blood in blushes for my shame 

Till it forgot to give my being life, 

If, by a single sigh, I durst keep back 

One soldier from the ranks of this just war. 
Cecil. What mean you, then ? 
Celia. That he has volunteered 

To be a spy, and in the very town 

Where he has lived, is known, and hated too. 

He can but be detected. 
Cecil. You are right. 

I see him coming. 
(^pointing to the Left. — Celia looks at him, in* 
quiringly.) 

You would better leave us. 
Exit — Right Upper — Celia. 

^8 Freeman. You know — We both 



CECIL THE SEER, 437 

Enter — Left Second — Freeman, dressed as an officer 
(/"<? Freeman). 

Your wife says you have volunteered to be 

A spy, where you are sure to meet with death. 
Freeman. I may succeed. 

Cecil. You scarce can hope to do so. 

Freeman {with assumed indifference). 

And what if not ? 
Cecil. Then you are not the man 

To trust on such a mission. 
Freeman. Not ? — How so ? 

Cecil. No man, if wise, will waive from what he 
plans 

The prospect of success. If you attempt it. 

Trust me to thwart you. 
Freeman. Humph! You seem officioua 
Cecil. One needs to be at times ; and now your 
life 

And Celia's happiness are both at stake. 
Freeman. Not Celia's happiness. 
Cecil. What do you mean ? 

Freeman. I mean, since men have talked so much 
against 

Our owning blacks, the time is coming fast 

For some to talk against our owning whites. 
Cecil. And what suggested this ? '^ 
Freeman. If Celia find 

Have seen both men and women treat their peers — 



438 CECIL THE SEER. 

More joy in your society than mine, 
Then let her find it. Did I marry her 
To limit her delights ? 
Cecil. Why, Freeman, friend. 

Look here at me — You are an upright man, 
(^placing his hand on Freeman's shoulder^ 
And so am I. Upon my soul, I hoped 
You had forgotten, or not understood 
The words I used. But, ere I knew you married. 
Was it — with all that she and I had been — 
So strange that I should have — those — whims of 



mme 



Freeman. She told you that she loved you. 
Cecil. ' Yes, she did : 

But as a daughter. 

(Freeman looks incredulous^ 

I am not a man 
You should distrust. "" 
Freeman. She said no more than that ? 

Cecil. When speaking of her love, she said no 
more. 



In wedlock, yes, but also out of it— 

As if they owned them; and society 

Approved, enforced their course. Mere selfishness 

Has been enthroned so long in men's affairs, 

That naught seems worthy of respect to some 

Of which it only is not king and guide. 

Cecil. And, pray, too, what of that ? 



CECIL THE SEER. 439 

She gave no slightest hint that meant not that. 
Freeman. Yet you love her ? 
Cecil. In the degree I do, 

Her honor I would guard, as, too, mine own; 

And guard her love too. She has told me all. 

She loves you as a true and faithful wife. 

So let me save you for her. Be no spy, 

But soldier, captain, general, — who knows 

What fortune may await the tide of war! 
Freeman. And you? 
Cecil. Am I, think you, a man to play 

A second fiddle to your tune of love — 

With instrument all broke beyond repair, 

Make discord of the music of your life? 

I promise you to leave here. 
Freeman. Leave your home t — - 

You have no other. 
Cecil. Some will open for me. 

{^pointing toward the tent.) 

There were one here, did my infirmities 

Not keep me from the army. 

{Shouts are heard at the Left.) 

^^ Freeman. Who knows what men can be, 

Till pierced where tenderest ? It was the fleet 
Achilles could be wounded in the heel; 
And some have heads, and some have hearts to hurt 

Cecil. I say she said she loved me as a daughter. 
I quote her very words. 

Freeman. She said no more ? etc. 



440 CECIL THE SEER. 

Enter — Left — A guard of Soldiers headed by 
an Officer, and conducting Blaver and 
Miss Primwood — now Madam Blaver 
— Lowe and Madam Lowe, Father Hy- 
CHER, Kraft and Madam Cecil — now 
Madam Kraft — Father Hycher and 
Widow Hycher, attended by Faith, 
Populace /^//^7£/. 
Freeman {in evident astonishment). 

Who are they ? 
Cecil. I think you know them. 
Freeman {noticing Father Hycher). 

Father — ? — Now will I 
Get even with him. 
Cecil. There is no such thing 

As getting even with a low-lived soul, 
Without degrading one's own self. 
(to the Officer.) 

And who 
Are these? 
Officer, All spies. 
Other People. To shoot. 
Another. And all have land 

To confiscate. 
Officer {to Cecil). They tell us that you know 

them. 
Cecil. Why, yes ; and Freeman too. — Ah, Madam 
Blaver ! 
(Cecil and Freeman shake hands with Miss 



CECIL THE SEER. 44 1 

Primwood — now Madam Blaver — with 
Madam Lowe, Widow Hycher, Lowe 
and Blaver, but not with the others. 
Cecil continues to the Officer, gestur- 
ing toward the ladies, including Madam 
Cecil — now Madam Kraft.) 
Our war is not with ladies, I believe ? 

{The Officer apparently agrees with him^ 
Father Hycher. I am a clergyman. 
Cecil. Quite true ; and we ? — 

(looking for assent to Freeman.) 
Freeman. Of course, we have no strife here with 

religion. 
Lowe. I am a friend. 
Cecil. He is. 

Lowe. With me the chief 

Consideration is religion. 
Blaver. And I 

A prohibitionist. Our pleas were all 
Based on religious grounds. 
Officer. And what of that ? 

Freeman {laughing). You fail to catch its bear- 
ing? — When they take 
Their oath of loyalty, why, they will keep it. 
{The prisoners make startled signs of dissent.) 
Cecil. And this, too, may be said, — that as a 
rule 
The friends are on our side ; and are not fighters. 
So too with prohibitionists. 
10 



442 CECIL THE SEER. 

Freeman {to Cecil, in a laughing way). 

For once, 
Religion, friend, has helped them in their 
practice. 
Officer {taking Kraft roughly by the shoulder). 

But here the case is different. 
Cecil. I grant it. 

Officer. We know him, and his party. 
Madam Cecil- Kraft {to Cecil). Could I speak 

A moment with you ? 
Cecil. Oh, yes, if it please you. 

(Cecil and Madam Cecil- Kraft, walk to one side.) 
Madam C. You know my father died. 
Cecil {nodding toward Kraft). Before you mar- 
ried? 

(Madam C. nods in assent^ 
A happy man ! 
Madam C. He left a fortune to me. 

It now is in this land. 
Cecil. In Kraft's name? 

Madam C. Yes. 

{hesitatingly, after pausing a moment^ 

There was an informality 

Cecil. In what ? 

Madam C. My marriage. 

Cecil. I should think so ! — What of that ? 

Madam C. Why, I would deed you half mj 
ownings here, 
Could it 



CECIL THE SEER, 443 

Cecil. This marriage — be made right? 

Madam C. With you — 

Your help. 
Cecil. No, thank you — not for all you own. 
Madam C. And you would have me lose my land 

here then ? 
Kraft (coming forward^ followed by Freeman). 

But surely you will help me ? 

Cecil. Surely ? — why ? 

Kraft. You know I am no spy. 

Cecil. How do I know it ? 

Kraft. My character 

Cecil. What character ? 

Kraft. And you 

Would have me shot ? 
Cecil (to Freeman). 

Shot at, perhaps? What say? 
By proxy, eh? — And in a better cause 
Than his past deeds deserve? 
Freeman. I see. 

(to the Soldiers.) 

Say, friends, 
We all would save the lands of loyal men. 
All loyal men about us are enlisting. 
If Kraft be loyal, he will do the same. 
(The Soldiers make signs of approval.^ 
(to Kraft.) 
What say you? 



444 CECIL THE SEER, 

Kraft {hesitatingly). 

Had I — a — commission 

Freeman. That 

Would prove unwise the one who gave it you. 
Cecil {to Kraft, putting his hand on Freeman's 
shoulder). 
Places of trust are only for the trusted ; 
And high commissions but for men with mis- 
sions. 
What say you — prison or private ? — Make your 
choice. 
Kraft {abjectly). 

Why, if I must 

Cecil. It looks as if you must. 

Enter — Left — hurriedly^ Two Gentlemen. 
{Commotion among the Vovxs'L AC'S, near them and fol- 
lowing them.) 
Populace. Hurrah ! 

Enter — Right Upper — evidently attracted by 
the commotion., Celia, followed by Jem 
and Milly, and stand on the porch. 
First Gentleman {to Cecil). They nominated 

you. 
Cecil. For what? 

First Gent. For representative at Washington. 
Second Gent, {shaking hands with Cecil). 

And I congratulate the district too. 
Cecil. But I? — a stranger? 
First Gent. No, no; one well known. 



CECIL THE SEER. 445 

Second Gent. The only home you have now must 
be here ; 
For here they brought and nursed you, when so 
ill. 
First Gent. And when the factions could not else 
agree, 
They all could join on you. 
People. Hurrah ! hurrah ! 

Second Gent. And nomination here is sure elec- 
tion. 
People. Hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah ! A speech ! a 

speech ! 
Cecil {ascending the porch, where he stands with 
Celia at his Right). 
This is no time for words. The world needs work ; 
But one whose forced infirmities prevent 
His bearing arms and marching to the front, 
May choose the course that you commend to him. 
{Cheers from the crowd. Cecil gestures toward the 
Soldiers.) 
But do not think you only move to war ; 
Or deem that I stay here to dwell in peace. 
To men whose purposes, like ours, push on 
To work out high designs, all life on earth 
Is girt with warfare, where the light of heaven 
That brings us each new day's enlightenment, 
Contends with darkness, and there is no peace. 
Our very bodies are but phantoms formed 
Of that same darkness that we must oppose. 



44^ CECIL THE SEER. 

And we must fight, if nothing else, ourselves. 
Ay, whether we may march our frames to greet 
The cannon's mouth, or duty's commoner call, 
Go where death threatens, or long seems to 

tarry, 
One destiny, at last, awaits us all : 
Upon life's little stage the play will close, 
The curtain drop, and leave the actor dead. 
Yet, soldiers, what care you, or what care I ? — 
The souls that fight for truth, beyond scenes 

here. 
Find life that does not end in tragedy ; 
For all our world is but a theater 
Outside whose walls, where shine the stars of 

heaven. 
The actors with their roles and robes laid by 
May all meet smiling in the open air. 
And now — to play our several parts — farewell. 

(bowing to those before him^ then turning to Celia and 
taking her hajid.) 

(Blast of bugles, as the Soldiers/^// into line, with 
Kraft well guarded^ 

Curtain. 
End. 



PUBLICATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

A LIFE IN SONG 

By GEORGE L. RAYMOND 



i6mo, cloth extra, $1.25 



" An age-worn poet, dying amid strangers in a humble village home, 
leaves the record of his life m a pile of manuscript poems. These are 
claimed by a friend and comrade of the poet, but, at the request of the 
cottagers, he reads them over before taking them away. The poet's life 
is divided into seven books or ' notes,' because seven notes seem to make 
up the gamut of life. . . . This is the simple but unique plan, . . . 
which . . . forms but the mere outline of a remarkably fine study of 
the hopes, aspirations, and disappointments of life, ... an American 
modern life. . . . The author sees poetry, and living poetry, where 
the most of men see prose. . . . The objection, so often brought 
against our young poets, that form outweighs the thought, cannot be 
urged in this instance, for the poems of Prof. Raymond are full of keen 
and searching comments upon life. Neither can the objection be urged 
of the lack of the human element. ' A Life in Song ' is not only dra- 
matic in tendency, but is singularly realistic and acute. . . . The 
volume will appeal to a large class of readers by reason of its clear, musi- 
cal, flexible verse, its fine thought, and its intense human interest." — 
Boston Transcript. 

" Professor Raymond is no dabbler in the problem of the human spirit, 
and no tyro in the art of word painting, as those who know his prose 
works can testify. These pages contain a mine of rich and disciplined 
reflection, and abound in beautiful passages." — Hartford Theological 
Seminary Record. 

" Here are lines which, if printed in letters of gold upon the front of 
every pulpit, and practised by every one behind one, would transform the 
face of the theological world. ... In short, if you are in search of 
ideas that are unconventional and up-to-date, get ' A Life in Song,' and 
read it." — Unity. 

" Some day Dr. Raymond will be universally recognized as one of the 
leaders in the new thought-movement. . . . He is a poet in the truest 
sense. His ideals are ever of the highest, and his interpretation is of the 
clearest and sweetest. He has richness of genius, intensity of human 
feeling, and the refinement of culture. His lines are alive with action, 
luminous with thought and passion, and melodious with music." — 
Cleveland World. 



PUBLICATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

Professor Raymond's Art-Books 



Art in Theory. 8vo, cloth extra. , . . $1.75 

" A well grounded, thoroughly supported, and entirely artistic concep- 
tion of art as a whole, that will lead observers to applj^ its principles . . . 
and to distrust the charlatanism that imposes an idle and superficial 
mannerism upon the public in place of true beauty and honest work- 
manship." — The New York Times. ^ 

" His style is good, and his logic sound, and ... of the greatest 
possible service to the student of artistic theories." — Art Journal 
(London). 

The Representative Significance of Form. 

8vo, cloth extra. $2.00 

" Evidently the ripe fruit of years of patient and exhaustive study on 
the part of a man singularly fitted^ for his task. It is profound in insight, 
searching in analysis, broad in spirit, and thoroughly modern in method 
and sympathy." — The Universalist Leader. 

" An original thinker and writer, the charm of his style and clearness 
of expression make Mr. Raymond's book possible to the general reader, 
though worthy of the study of the student and scholar." — Hartford 
Courant, 

Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture, as Representa- 
tive Arts. With 225 illustrations, 8vo. . $2.50 

" Expression by means of extension or size . . . shape . . . regu- 
larity in outlines . . . the human body . . . posture, gesture, and 
movement . . . are all considered. ... A specially interesting chapter 
is the one on color." — Czirrent Literature. 

" The whole book is the work of a man of exceptional thoughtfulness, 
who says what he has to say in a remarkably lucid and direct manner." — 
The Philadelphia Press. 

The Genesis of Art-Form. Fully illustrated. Svo, $2.25 

" In a spirit at once scientific and that of the true artist, he pierces 
through the manifestations of art to their sources, and shows the relations, 
intimate and essential, between painting, sculjjture, poetry, music, and 
architecture, A book that possesses not only singular value, but singular 
charm."— A^. Y. Times. 

" A help and a delight. Every aspirant for culture^ in any oi the 
liberal arts, including music and poetry, will find something in this book 
to aid him. — Boston Titnes. 

Proportion and Harmony of Line and Color in Painting, 
Sculpture, and Architecture. 

Fully illustrated. Svo. $2.50 

" No critical person can afford to ignore so valuable a contribution to 
the art-thought of the day." — The Art-Interchange (N. Y.). 

" One does not need to be a scholar to follow this scholar as he teaches 
while seeming to entertain ; for he does both." — Burlington Hawk-Eye. 

" The artist who wishes to penetrate the mysteries of color, the sculptor 
who desires to cultivate his sense of proportion, or the architect whose 
ambition is to reach to a high standard will find the work helpful and 
inspiring."— .5oj^(7» Transcript. 



PUBLICATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

POETRY 

AS A 

REPRESENTATIVE ART 

By GEORGE L. RAYMOND 

8vO, CLOTH EXTRA, $1-75 

This book is an attempt, in accordance with modern methods, aided by 
the results of modem investigation, to determine scientifically the laws of 
poetic composition and criticism, by deriving and distinguishing the 
methods and meanings of the various factors of poetic form and thought 
from those of the elocution and rhetoric of ordinary speech, of which 
poetry is an artistic development. The principles unfolded are illus- 
trated by quotations from the first English poets. 

" The scope of this work embraces every relation of poetry to language 
and to sentiment. The author's plan is an exhaustive one ; his manner 
of working it out shows a thorough study of his subject and an astonish- 
ing familiarity with the whole range of English poetry . . . critically 
examined. The student of literature will find the book worthy of 
exhaustive study." — Philadelphia Inquirer. 

" The results are the most important ones yet attained in its depart- 
ment, and, we believe, the most valuable." — Boston Globe. 

"An acute, interesting, and brilliant piece of work. ... As a whole 
the essay deserves unqualified praise. If every poetic aspirant could 
learn it by heart, the amount of versifying might be reduced by a half, 
and the amount of poetry increased by a larger ratio. ... It applies the 
test under whose touch the dull line fails. It goes further than this, and 
furnishes the key to settle the vexed questions as to moralizing and 
didactic verse, and the dangerous terms on which sense and sound meet in 
verse." — N. Y . Independent. 

" Certainly of its kind, nothing has been ofEered the American public 
so excellent as this. Professor Raymond has thorough insight, a complete 
mastery of critical style, and a thorough acquaintance with the poets. He 
has produced something that must live." — Hartford Post. 

" The style is clear and forcible . . . the treatment is thorough 
and able. ... If one wished a volume of fine representative selections 
of verse, merely, this would be . . . most acceptable. — Unity. 

" He certainly knows what ought to be done, what he wants to do, 
where to go for his material, how to lay out his work, how to say what he 
desires, and leave unsaid what he chooses. . . . The work will be 
welcomed, must be studied, and will grow upon the schools as it is appre- 
ciated." — Journal of Education (Boston). 



PUBLICATIONS OF G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS 

By GEORGE L. RAYMOND 



i6mo, cloth extra, $1.25 



" In the construction of the ballad, he has given some notable exam- 
ples of what may be wrought of native material by one who has a tasteful 
ear and practised hand. If he does not come up to the standard of the 
ancient ballad, which is the model, he has done as well as any of the 
younger American authors who have attempted this kind of work, and 
there is true enjoyment in all that he has written. Of his other poems, 
the dramatic poem, ' Haydn,' is finished in form, and has literarj' value, 
as well as literary power." — Boston Globe. 

" The author has achieved a very unusual success, a success to which 
genuine poetic power has not more contributed than wide reading and 
extensive preparation. The ballads overflow, not only with the general, 
but the very particular, truths of history." — Cincinnati Times. 

" It may well find readers in abundance . . . for the sake of the 
many fine passages which it contains. . . . ' Ideals made Real' has 
one point of very high excellence . . . we have in the conception of 
the character of Edith the work of a genuinely dramatic poet. . . . In 
Edith we have a thoroughly masculine intellect in a thoroughly feminine 
soul, not merely by the author's assertion, but by actual exhibition. 
Every word that Edith speaks, every act that she does, is in accord with 
this conception. ... It is^ sufficient, without doubt, to give life to a 
less worthy performance, and it proves beyond doubt that Mr. Raymond 
is the possessor of a poetic faculty which is worthy of the most careful 
and conscientious cultivation." — If. Y. Evening Post. 

*' A very thoughtful study of character . . . great knowledge ^ of 
. . . aims and motives. . , . Such as read this poem will derive 
from it a benefit more lasting than the mere pleasure of the moment." — 
London Spectator. 

"Mr. Raymond is a poet emphatically, and not a scribbler in rhyme.' 
London Literary Churchman. 

" His is no mere utterance of dreams and fancies. His poetry takes 
hold on life ; it enters the arena where its grandest and purest motives 
are discussed, and by the vigor and beauty of the language it holds itself 
on a level with the highest themes. . . . Every thoughtful reader . . . 
will wish that the poems had been longer or that there had been more of 
them. It would be possible to quote passage after passage of rare 
beauty."— £/J??V« Herald. 



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